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OF ENGLISH TEXTS 



GENERAL EDITOR 

HENRV VAN DYKE 



THE GATEWAY SERIES. 

HENRY VAN DYKE, General Editor. 

Shakesfkark's Merchant of Venice. Professor Felix E. 

Schelling, University oi Pennsylvania. 
Shakespeare's Julius C.'ESAr. Dr. Hamilton W. Mabie, 

" The Outlook." 
Shakespeare's Macbeth. Professor T. M, Parrott, Prince- 
ton University. 
Milton's Minor Poems. Professor Mary A. Jordan, Smith 

College. 
Addison's Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. Professor 

C. T. Winchester, Wesleyan University. 
Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield. Professor James A. 

Tufts, Phillips Exeter Academy. 
Burke's Speech on Conciliation. Professor William 

MacDonald, Brown University. 
Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner. Professor George 

E. Woodberry, Columbia University. 
Scott's Ivanhoe. Professor Francis H. Stoddard, New 

York University. 
Scott's Lady of the Lake. Professor R. M. Alden, Leland 

Stanford fr. University. 
Irving's Life of Goldsmith. Professor Martin Wright 

Sampson, University of Indiana. 
Macaulay's Milton. Rev. E. L. Gulick, Lawrenceville 

School. 
Macaulay's Addison. Professor Charles F. McClumpha, 

University of Minnesota. 
Macaulay's Life of Johnson. Professor J. S. Clark, North- 
western University. 
Carlyle'S Essay on Burns. Professor Edwin Mims, Trin- 
ity College, North Carolina. 
George Eliot's Silas 

Yale University. 
Tennyson's Princess. 

Wellesley College. 
Tennyson's Gareth 

Elaine, and The 

Dyke. 



Marner. Professor W. L. Cross, 

Professor Katharine Lee Bates, 

and Lynette, Lancelot and 
Passing of Arthur. Henry van 




-^^^rci^.^^^^^- ^^-C^ 



GATEWAY SERIES 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 



BY 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 



EDITED BY 
RAYMOND MACDONALD ALDEN, Ph.D. 

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE AND RHETORIC, 
LELAND STANFORD JUNIOR UNIVERSITY 




NEW YORK •:• CINCINNATI •:■ CHICAGO 

AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 



'^'^S'2 0^ 



LIBRARY cf CONGRESS 
Two Copies Heceived 

NOV 16 1904 

Copi/rienx tntiy 
«- XXc. Noi 






COPY B. 



Copyright, 1904, by 
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY. 

Entered at Stationers' Hall, London. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
W. P. I 



PREFACE BY THE GENERAL 
EDITOR 

This series of books aims, first, to give the English 
texts required for entrance to college in a form which 
shall make them clear, interesting, and helpful to those 
who are beginning the study of literature ; and, second, 
to supply the knowledge which the student needs to 
pass the entrance examination. For these two reasons 
it is called The Gatetuay Series. 

The poems, plays, essays, and stories in these small 
volumes are treated, first of all, as works of literature, 
which were written to be read and enjoyed, not to be 
parsed and scanned and pulled to pieces. A short life 
of the author is given, and a portrait, in order to help 
the student to know the real person who wrote the 
book. The introduction tells what it is about, and 
how it was written, and where the author got the idea, 
and what it means. The notes at the foot of the page 
are simply to give the sense of the hard words so that 
the student can read straight on without turning to a 
dictionary. The other notes, at the end of the book, 
explain difficulties and allusions and fine points. 

5 



6 Preface by the General Editor 

The editors are chosen because of their thorough 
training and special fitness to deal with the books 
committed to them, and because they agree with this 
idea of what a Gateway Series ought to be. They 
express, in each case, their own views of the books 
which they edit. Simplicity, thoroughness, shortness, 
and clearness, — these, we hope, will be the marks of 
the series. 

HENRY VAN DYKE. 



PREFACE 

The Lady of the Lake should be read primarily for 
simple enjoyment, not for the study of history or geog- 
raphy. Knowledge of some historical and geographical 
details is, however, indispensable to the understanding 
of the story ; these, and nothing more, it has been the 
aim of the editor to supply in the notes. The student 
may well read the poem as rapidly as he can under- 
stand it. The map forming page 36 will be found to 
contain nearly all the geographical names mentioned 
in the text, and should be constantly used in connec- 
tion with the notes. 

Among the many editions of The Lady of the Lake, 
that of Dr. William J. Rolfe, in the Riverside Press 
series, is deserving of special mention. The present 
editor owes acknowledgment for assistance found in 
Dr. Rolfe 's careful work on the text of the poem, as 
well as in his notes on geographical details. 

R. M. A. 
Stanford University, 
California. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction : 

I. Life and Character of Scott II 

II. The Ladv of the Lake 



The Lady of the Lake 
Notes .... 



27 

37 

235 



INTRODUCTION 



I. Life and Character of Scott 

The author of The Lady of the Lake and the Waverley 
Novels is one of the most agreeable figures one can meet 
in making the acquaintance of the great names in our 
literature. He did not conceal his own personality 
behind his work, like Shakespeare and other dramatic 
poets, but showed his hearty and kindly nature in all 
that he wrote ; and he lived among friends who appreci- 
ated the importance of his work, so that we have in their 
records of his life and character as full an account of 
Scott as we could wish for. Indeed, the biography 
written by John G. Lockhart, his son-in-law, is commonly 
considered one of the best two biographies in the English 
language — Boswell's LJfe of Johnson, being the other. 
Every reader of Scott will wish sooner or later to make 
his acquaintance through this book ; for the present pur- 
pose we need only look rapidly at the outlines of his 
life, drawing ui)on Lockhart, of course, for most of the 
material. 

Walter Scott was the son of an Edinburgh lawyer, and 
was born in the Scotch capital on August 15, 1771. As a 
boy he was a bright, active youngster, entering heartily 

II 



12 Introduction 

into all sports and outdoor exercises, in spite of the fact 
that from infancy he suffered from a lameness in one leg. 
The cheerfulness with which he met and largely over- 
came the disadvantages of this trouble, and the frankness 
with which he always spoke of it, contrast pleasantly 
with the sensitiveness and morbid regrets always shown 
by Lord Byron in connexion with his similar deformity. 

In his studies Scott diti not especially distinguish him- 
self, but he was always passionately fond of literature and 
history, and had an extraordinary memory which all 
through life enabled him to repeat, almost word for word, 
any part of his reading in which he had been particularly 
interested. An amusing story is told of him when only 
six years old, that he said to his aunt that he liked a 
certain Mrs. Cockburn who had been visiting the family, 
because she was a virtuoso like himself. " Walter," said 
his Aunt Jenny, "what is a virtuoso ?" "Why, it's one 
who wishes and will know everything." Another notice- 
able fact about his childhood was his fondness for the old 
Scotch and English ballads, especially those telling of the 
warring days of the " Border chivalry." Over these he 
would pore by the hour, and by the time he was twelve 
years old he had a collection of them, many of which he 
had picked up in pamphlet form at book-shops, amount- 
ing to several volumes. He has himself told us of the 
day when he first came across the Reliques of A?icieiit 
Poetry, edited by Dr. Percy, — the chief collection of the 
old ballads made in the eighteenth century. " I remem- 
ber well the spot where I read these volumes for the first 



Introduction 13 

time. It was beneath a huge platanus tree, in the ruins 
of what had been intended for an old-fashioned arbour in 
the garden I have mentioned. The summer day sped 
onward so fast that, notwithstanding the sharp appetite 
of thirteen, I forgot the hour of dinner, was sought for 
with anxiety, and was still found entranced in my intel- 
lectual banquet. . . . Henceforth I overwhelmed my 
schoolfellows, and all who would hearken to me, with 
tragical recitations from the ballads." The importance 
of this lies in the fact that it was these old ballad stories 
which formed in a sense the models for Scott's poems of 
adventure. 

In like manner the romantic scenery of the Scotch 
lakes and mountains was full of poetic and historic inter- 
est for him. When he was taken to visit any of the bits 
of interesting country within easy reach of Edinburgh, he 
not only enjoyed its natural beauty for its own sake, but 
filled it in with the imaginary forms of the monks and 
knights, the fair ladies and the warriors, of the age of 
romance. Speaking again of the time when he was twelve 
or thirteen years old, he tells how his " romantic feelings " 
connected themselves with the landscape ; " and the his- 
torical incidents, or traditional legends connected with 
many of them, gave to my admiration a sort of intense 
impression of reverence, which at times made my heart 
feel too big for its bosom. From this time the love of 
natural beauty, more especially when combined with 
ancient ruins, or remains of our fathers' piety or splen- 
dour, became with me an insatiable passion." 



14 Introduction 

And when he could not be in the country, or even in out- 
door sports, his imagination still did him good service. At 
the age of sixteen he was confined to his room by a long 
illness, and he relates how one of his amusements during 
this time was to call to mind the wars and battles of 
which he had read in history. These he worked out by 
the " expedient of arranging shells, and seeds, and peb- 
bles, so as to represent encountering armies. Diminu- 
tive crossbows were contrived to mimic artillery, and 
with the assistance of a friendly carpenter I contrived to 
model a fortress, which . . . represented whatever place 
happened to be uppermost in my imagination. I fought 
my way thus through Vertot's Knights of Malta, a book 
which, as it hovered between history and romance, was 
exceedingly dear to me." All through hfe Scott kept up 
his interest in military matters, and for a great part of his 
early manhood he was officer of a volunteer troop of cav- 
alry in which his good horsemanship gave him a promi- 
nent place, despite his lameness. One result of all this is 
that his writings excel in descriptions of mihtary affairs, 
his battles — whether in prose or verse — being among 
the liveliest and at the same time the clearest in literature. 

When he came of age, without waiting to complete a 
university course, Scott was admitted to the bar and 
began to practise law in his father's office and for him- 
self. But while he was by no means a failure in this pro- 
fession, he did not especially distinguish himself in it, and 
soon came to have more interest in literature. After a 
few years, when his success in poetry had — as he ex- 



Introduction 



S 



pressed it — made people suspicious of his qualities as a 
man of affairs, he quite ab^yidoned the practice of his 
profession ; but in i 799 he was made sheriff of Selkirk- 
shire, and in 1S06 one of the clerks of the Court of Ses- 
sion at Edinburgh — positions which he held for nearly 
the whole of his remaining life. For these offices, which 
brought him some ^1600 (:^Sooo) a year, his legal train- 
ing, of course, stood him in good stead ; it also furnished 
him no little useful material for his novels. 

Meantime, at the close of the }ear 1797, Scott was 
married. His first love had been a certain Williamina 
Stuart, whose family was considered to be above the rank 
of Scott's, so that the parents of both the young people 
appear to have thought the match undesirable. Miss 
Stuart eventually married a gentleman (later a baronet) 
who became a fast friend of Scott's. In the same year in 
which she was married, Scott met Miss Charlotte Char- 
pentier, or Carpenter, the daughter of a French Protestant 
refugee. " A lovelier vision," says Lockhart, " as all who 
remember her in the bloom of her days have assured me, 
could hardly have been imagined ; and from that hour 
the fate of the young poet was fixed." But notwith- 
standing the genuineness of his devotion to the lady who 
soon became his wife, Scott regarded it as something less 
passionate than that which he had felt during his " three 
years of dreaming " of Williamina Stuart. Long after his 
marriage he wrote to a friend : " Mrs. Scott's match and 
mine was of our owai making, and proceeded from the 
most sincere affection on both sides, which has rather 



1 6 Introduction 

increased than diminished during twelve years' marriage. 
But it was something short of love in all its forms, which 
I suspect people only feel once in their lives." Mrs. 
Scott does not appear to have had a strong imagination 
or any unusual interest in literature ; hence she could not 
exert such an influence on her husband's work as the 
wives of some other poets have done. But she was a 
thoroughly good wife and mother, and when she died, in 
1826, Scott wrote in his diary, "I wonder how I shall do 
with the large portion of thoughts which were hers for 
thirty years." 

Four children came to the household, two boys (Wal- 
ter and Charles) and two girls (Sophia and Anne). The 
many pictures which we get of the family life while all 
were still together at home are almost without exception 
pleasant ones ; and Scott's letters to his sons, written 
after they went away from home to study, are those of a 
father both wise and kind, who made his children his 
companions. The older son entered the army, and the 
younger the government civil service. Sophia married 
John Lockhart, one of the rising young literary men 
whom Scott had befriended ; while his other daughter, 
Anne, remained his constant companion until his death. 
None of the children survived their father by many years. 

Turning back now to trace Scott's Hterary work, we 
find that his earliest pubhshed poems were translations of 
some German ballads, which he had made for his own 
amusement. Later he wrote original verses of the same 
general character; and in the meantime his continued 



Introduction 17 

studies in the ballad literature of his own country grad- 
ually led to the book called Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
Border^ which he published in 1802. In this work Scott 
included not only the popular ballads which he had gath- 
ered from many sources, but also modern imitations of 
them by a few of his friends and by himself; and his first 
important and celebrated poem, the Lay of the Last 
Minstrel, was originally intended for a place in the same 
collection, but grew in his hands until it seemed better 
suited to form a book by itself. It appeared in January, 
1805, and was so well received that, as Lockhart tells us, 
" its success at once decided that literature should form 
the main business of Scott's life." The first edition con- 
sisted only of 750 copies, the second of 1500, the third, 
fourth, and fifth of about 2000 each ; and before Scott 
collected his poems, twenty-five years later, more than 
40,000 copies of the Lay had been sold in Great 
Britain alone. The story of the success of the poems 
that followed is almost the same. For Marmion, pub- 
lished in 1808, the publishers offered ;£"iooo without 
/laving seen a line of it, — or, as Byron said, " just half a 
crown per line." The principal poems that followed 
were The Lady of the Lake, in 18 10; Rokeby, in 1812 ; 
Tlie Bridal of TriermatJi, in 1813 ; The Lord of the Isles, 
in 1 8 15, and Harold the Dauntless, in 181 7. 

In 1813 Scott was asked by the Prince Regent to be- 
come Poet Laureate, in recognition of his being the most 
popular poet in the kingdom ; but he declined the hon- 
our, and managed to secure it for his friend, Robert 

LADY OF THE LAKE — 2 



1 8 Introduction 

Southey, who needed the salary more than he. This 
period marks the turning-point from the part of Scott's 
hfe which was devoted chiefly to poetry, to that which 
was devoted to prose romances. In 1813 Lord Byron 
pubhshed two of his metrical romances, The Giaour and 
The Bride of Abydos, and among London readers his 
fame was beginning to outshine Scott's. Although Byron 
sent to the elder poet a copy of The Giaour with the in- 
scription, " To the Monarch of Parnassus from one of his 
subjects," Scott was nevertheless one of the first to see 
that his genius in poetry was not the equal of Byron's. 
" He hits the mark where I don't even pretend to fledge 
my arrow," he said to one of his intimate friends ; and 
long afterward, near the close of his life, he said that one 
reason why he had given up poetry was because Byron, 
who had a deeper knowledge of the human heart, was 
taking his place. In the same year, 18 13, Scott set to 
work on his first novel, Waverley, which he had begun 
some years before and abandoned; and in 1814 it was 
published. Thus began the second and more brilliant 
period of his literary career. 

Into the details of this new period we need not at 
present go. Even the list of Scott's romances is too 
long to repeat here, and the story of their success be- 
longs to the study of his work in prose. They followed 
one another with extraordinary rapidity, and were even 
more eagerly bought and read than the poems had 
been. Between 18 14 and 1825 Scott had written more 
than twenty of these books, and had received for them 



Introduction 19 

more than ^25,000. Part of this money was spent 
in providing for his children ; a part was invested in 
the printing estabHshment of his friends, the Ballantynes, 
who had made their reputation by printing his works ; 
but the greater part was devoted to building up his 
estate of Abbotsford, where this, the happiest period 
of his life, was largely spent. 

Abbotsford was in Scott's favourite Border country, 
south of Edinburgh, on the banks of the Tweed, and 
looking across the river to the Cheviot Hills of Eng- 
land. It had been a part of the old estate of the monks 
of Melrose Abbey, the ruins of which are still well pre- 
served, and for which Scott showed a passionate devo- 
tion. His estate was at first a mere farm, but he added 
to it until it reached quite lordly proportions, and at the 
same time planned the fine residence, every nook and 
corner of which is associated with his care and taste, 
and which is still visited by countless pilgrims who hon- 
our his memory. His official duties called him to Edin- 
burgh for certain months of each year, but the moment 
he could leave them he would hasten back to Abbots- 
ford, to his beloved river and trees, his horses and dogs. 
Here he entertained, with splendid hospitality, both 
friends from every quarter of Great Britain and visitors 
of more or less distinction from all over the world. 
Every visitor of this sort who made any record of his 
experiences at Abbotsford has recorded the kindness 
and grace which Scott showed as a host, and the sim- 
plicity and charm of his home life. His time seemed 



20 Introduction 

always at the disposal of his family and friends, though 
in reality he was usually careful to save a part of each 
morning for rapid work at his desk. Scott's novels 
had all been pubhshed without the author's name, and 
the secret of the authorship was revealed only to a few 
of his most intimate friends, though it gradually came to 
be understood by all who knew him. But he never per- 
mitted any personal conversation on the subject, and 
his family laughingly accepted the popular phrase and 
called him " the Great Unknown." So he led a simpler 
life than would have been possible if he had become the 
acknowledged leading novelist of Great Britain ; and 
there were even some of his friends to whom it seemed 
impossible that the man who was always at leisure for 
riding, hunting, telling stories, corresponding with his 
friends, or doing a service for any one in need, could be 
at the same time the writer of two three-volume novels 
in a year. 

In 1825, five years after he had been made a baronet 
by the personal choice of the king, this happy period of 
Scott's life came to a close through the loss of his fortune. 
It was the investment in the Ballantyne printing house 
which brought the crash. Neither the Ballantynes nor 
Scott had given sufficient attention to the details of busi- 
ness, and when some of the firms with which theirs was 
connected fell into difficulties at this time, they were 
found to be so involved that there was no possibility of 
avoiding a failure. Their debts all told amounted to 
over ;^i 10,000, or considerably mor^ than half a million 



Introduction 2i 

of dollars, and the honour of Scott was involved in them 
all. 

Lord Cockburn, a prominent Scotchman of this period, 
has recorded the impression made on the community by 
Scott's misfortune. "The opening of the year 1826 will 
ever be sad to those who remember the thunderbolt which 
then fell on Edinburgh in the utterly unexpected bank- 
ruptcy of Scott. ... If an earthquake had swallowed 
half the town, it would not have produced greater as- 
tonishment, sorrow, and dismay. . . . How humbled 
we felt when we saw him — the pride of us all, dashed 
from his lofty and honourable station, and all the fruits 
of his well-worked talents gone. . . . Well do I remem- 
ber his first appearance after this calamity was divulged, 
when he walked into court one day in January, 1826. 
There was no affectation, and no reality, of facing it ; 
no look of indifference or defiance ; but the manly and 
modest air of a gentleman conscious of some follv, but 
of perfect rectitude, and of most heroic and honourable 
resolutions. It was on that very day, I believe, that he 
said a very fine thing. Some of his friends offered him, 
or rather proposed to offer him, enough of money, as was 
supposed, to enable him to arrange with his creditors. 
He paused for a moment ; and then, recollecting his 
powers, said proudly, ' No ! this right hand shall work it 
all off!'" 

The remaining years of his life were spent in fulfilling 
this resolution. Scott believed that if his strength should 
last long enough, and his popularity as a novelist con- 



22 Introduction 

tinue, he could write books which would enable him to 
pay all that he owed. But he was now more than fifty 
years old, and the task was too heavy. He did accomplish 
wonders, paying from the ])rofits of his writings nearly 
half the debt of the firm with which he had been associ- 
ated, in only five years' time. But his work, which had 
formerly been only a pleasure to him, now became a 
burden. His strength and buoyancy gave way, and at 
length a stroke of paralysis left him comparatively help- 
less in both body and mind. A journey to the Mediter- 
ranean was planned for the benefit of his health, and the 
esteem in which he was held is strikingly shown by the 
fact that his Majesty's government set apart a frigate of 
the navy for Sir Walter's use. But he continued to fail, 
and was eager to return to his beloved Abbotsford to die. 
When quite near the end he sent for his son-in-law, 
Mr. Lockhart, and said to him : " Lockhart, I may have 
but a minute to speak to you. My dear, be a good man 
— be virtuous — be religious — be a good man. Nothing 
else will give you any comfort when you come to lie 
here." On the 2TSt of September, 1832, as Lockhart 
tells us, " Sir Walter breathed his last, in the presence of 
all his children. It was a beautiful day — so warm that 
every window was wide open — and so perfectly still that 
the sound of all others most delicious to his ear, the 
gentle ijpple of the Tweed over its pebbles, was distinctly 
audible as we knelt around the bed." 

It was peculiarly true of Scott that " none knew him 
but to love him." The pleasure that he had given by 



Introduction 23 

his writings was so great that, as the Earl of Dudley said 
at the time of his financial misfortunes, " Let every man 
to whom he has giv^en months of delight give him a six- 
pence, and he will rise to-morrow morning richer than 
Rothschild ! " But this was not all. Other great writers, 
hke Pope, Burns, Coleridge, Byron, and Carlyle, have given 
pleasure to thousands of readers, but their readers have 
nevertheless been unable to forget important defects in 
their character. Those who knew Scott most intimately 
saw no such spots on his fame. He was a perfect gentle- 
man, and there is hardly a recorded instance of his lower- 
ing his own standard of character or doing an unkind- 
ness. His age was, unfortunately, one of hterary quarrels ; 
but Scott was the friend of every other poet of his time, 
and never quarrelled with any of them, even under provo- 
cation. He firmly believed in the law of kindness. In 
his last years, looking back over his career and speaking 
of some of his critics, he wrote : " I let parody, burlesque, 
and squibs find their own level ; and while the latter 
hissed most fiercely, I was cautious never to catch them 
up, as school-boys do, to throw them back against the 
naughty boy who fired them off, wisely remembering that 
they are in such cases apt to explode in the handling." 
His only warm disputes were on political matters, for he 
was an ardent Tory, and honestly opposed the opposite 
party whenever there was occasion. But he did this in 
such good spirit that Lord Cockburn observed that at the 
time of his failure there was not one of his political op- 
ponents " who would not have given every spare farthing 



24 Introduction 

he possessed to relieve Sir Walter." The kindliness and 
pure-heartedness, then, which appear in his writings are 
the revelation of the man himself. 

In a sense Scott always remained boyish. Once, in 
writing to a lady who knew him only by correspondence, 
he said : " I am afraid you have formed a higher opinion 
of me than I deserve : you would expect to see a person 
who had dedicated himself much to literary pursuits, 
and you would find me a rattle-skulled half-lawyer, half- 
sportsman, through whose head a regiment of horse has 
been exercising since he was five years old ; half-educated 
— half-crazy, as his friends sometimes tell him." So he 
never lost his love for his horses and dogs, for games and 
hunting, for stories of war and romance. He always kept, 
too, a fondness for a certain sort of aristocratic display, 
which was at the same time not inconsistent with simplicity 
of spirit. He liked processions and ceremonials ; he was 
careful to observe the old festivals of Scottish life as they 
came around from year to year ; he genuinely enjoyed 
the right to emblazon his coat-of-arms as a baronet ; and 
one of his greatest pleasures in building up his Abbotsford 
estate was in gathering around him tenants and servants 
who would be devoted to him, and to whom he would 
show kindness, in the old-fashioned position of a lord of 
the manor. It was natural, then, that he should not be 
of a temper to sympathize with the growth of democratic 
ideas which tended to break down all political and social 
distinctions between men ; and it is perhaps the chief 
limitation of Scott that he failed to understand or sympa- 



Introduction 



5 



thize with the reform movements of his time. In the 
same way we do not find in either his poetry or his 
novels any traces of the influence of modern democratic 
ideas, but rather the atmosphere of the earher days when 
all well-disposed people were content with things as they 
found them. 

Scott preferred to think of himself as a gentleman and an 
active man of the world, who wrote poetry for the pleasure 
of it and for the sake of making a httle additional pocket- 
money, rather than as a man of letters. *' Did any of my 
sons," he once wrote, " show poetical talent, of which, to 
my great satisfaction, there are no appearances, the first 
thing I should do would be to inculcate upon him the duty 
of cultivating some honourable profession, and qualifying 
himself to play a more respectable part in society than 
the mere poet." And in another letter : '" I had rather be 
a kitten and cry mew' " (quoting Shakespeare), "than write 
the best poetry in the world on condition of laying aside 
common sense in the ordinary transactions and business 
of the world." Now from one point of view this feeling 
was, of course, very sensible, and preserved Scott from 
the affectations and conceits of small men of letters ; but 
it is easy to see, on the other hand, that it shows a lower 
view of poetry than the greater poets have taken. We 
can imagine Wordsworth, or Shelley, or Tennyson indig- 
nant enough at the expression " the mere poet." To 
them the poet was the truest teacher of his age, with 
powers and duties as sacred as those of a king, a priest, 
or a prophet. Here again, then, we find a limitation of 



26 Introduction 

Scott's. He lived largely in the material world, and 
wrote of solid men and things, rather than of spiritual 
forces or moral ideals, although he thoroughly believed 
in these also. He was right in saying that his poetry 
must take a second place ; for it is not of the sort that 
reveals great truths, expresses great ideas and profound 
passions, or leads men into higher living. 

But it does not follow that his poetry is to be despised. 
He used it for the same purpose which he afterwards de- 
cided he could accomplish better in prose, — that of 
telling wholesome and brilliant stories in a way that 
makes them live in our imaginations. He delighted to 
bring back the earlier days, "the age of romance," in 
all the fascination which it had for him when as a boy 
his fancy brought back the old warring chieftains to the 
glens of the Highlands, the monks to the ruins of Melrose 
Abbey, and armoured knights to the castles of Tantallon 
or Stirling. His life, he said near its close, had been a 
sort of dream. " I have worn a wishing-cap, the power 
of which has been to divert present griefs by a touch 
of the wand of imagination, and gild over the future 
by prospects more fair than can be realized." This 
wonderful wishing-cap and this magic wand he has 
handed down to all his readers. One of his admirers 
early called him " the Great Magician," and the tide will 
always be associated with his memory. We go to him, as 
his own children used to gather around his chair in the 
twilight, for stories that shall make us forget ourselves 
in the sorrows and joys of other days. 



Introduction 27 

II. The Lady of the Lake 

When Scott was only about sixteen years of age, and was 
working in a lawyer's office, he was sent on an expedition 
to the Highlands, with a sergeant and six soldiers to aid 
him in the execution of a legal paper. " Thus it hap- 
pened," as he afterwards wrote, " that the author first 
entered the romantic scenery of Loch Katrine, of which 
he may perhaps say he has somewhat extended the rep- 
utation, riding in all the dignity of danger, with a front 
and rear guard, and loaded arms." This was the wild 
country to the northwest of Edinburgh, still largely in- 
habited by the Celtic clans who considered themselves 
the original and rightful inhabitants of Scotland, and 
whose haunts and habits are described in both T/ie Lady 
of the Lake and the novel Rob Roy. Scott often revisited 
the Highlands, and after the success of his earlier poems, 
particularly Marmion^ he turned to the Loch Katrine 
region as the scene of his next work. " The scenery of 
Loch Katrine," he said, "was connected with the rec- 
ollection of many a dear friend and merry expedition 
of former days. This poem, the action of which lay 
among scenes so beautiful and so deeply imprinted on 
my recollections, was a labour of love, and it was no less 
so to recall the manners and customs introduced." 

The historical basis of The Lady of the Lake was 
found in the reign of King James V of Scodand, who be- 
came the father of Mary Queen of Scots, and who had 
inherited the throne when only a year old, in 15 13. This 



2 8 Introduction 

year 15 13 was the date of the battle of Flodden Field, 
which is described at the close of the story of Marmion ; 
so that T]ie Lady of the Lake follows Mar7nion in the 
time of its story as well as in the time of its writing. 
Later, in the Tales of a Grandfather, Scott described 
the reign of James V, and we can see in his narrative 
the facts which suggested the plot of the poem. 

During his boyhood, King James was for some time 
under the control of Douglas, the Earl of Angus, who 
had married his mother ; but he resented this bitterly, 
and at the age of sixteen escaped to the royal castle of 
Stirling. Then, getting the power into his own hands, 
he exiled the entire Douglas family, and persuaded Par- 
hament to declare their estates forfeit. He persevered 
in his hatred of the Douglases, as Scott relates, " even 
under circumstances w4iich rendered his unrelenting re- 
sentment ungenerous. Archibald Douglas of Kilspindie, 
the Earl of Angus's uncle, had been a personal favourite 
of the king before the disgrace of his family. He was so 
much recommended to James by his great strength, 
manly appearance, and skill in every kind of warlike 
exercise, that he was wont to call him his * Graysteil,' 
after the name of a champion in a romance then popu- 
lar. Archibald, becoming rather an old man, and tired 
of his exile in England, resolved to try the king's mercy. 
He thought that as they had been so well acquainted 
formerly, and as he had never offended James person- 
ally, he might find favour from their old intimacy. He 
therefore threw himself in the king's way one day as he 



Introduction 29 

returned from hunting in the park at Stirhng. It was 
several years since James had seen him, but he knew 
him at a great distance, by his firm and stately step, and 
said, 'Yonder is my Graysteil, Archibald of Kilspindie.' 
But when they met, he showed no appearance of recog- 
nizing his old servant." While the Douglas of The Lady 
of the Lake is an imaginary person, this "Graysteil" 
forms the historical basis for his character. 

Two other characteristic facts connected with James V 
were used by Scott in planning his poem : the warfare 
which the king waged against the wild freebooting chiefs 
of the Highlands and the Border, of whom Roderick Dhu 
is an imaginary type ; and his habit of going about in dis- 
guise, either for purposes of pleasure or to observe the 
conditions of his kingdom unsuspected. An instance of 
this latter sort, including one circumstance which is used 
in the story of Ellen's recognition of the king, Scott also 
related in the Tales of a Grandfather. 

" Upon another occasion. King James, being alone and 
in disguise, fell into a quarrel with some gipsies, or other 
vagrants, and was assaulted by four or five of them. . . . 
There was a poor man thrashing corn in a barn near by, 
who came out on hearing the noise of the scuffle, and 
seeing one man defending himself against numbers, gal- 
lantly took the king's part with his flail, to such good 
purpose that the gipsies were obliged to fly. The hus- 
bandman then took the king into the barn, brought him 
a towel and water to wash the blood from his face and 
hands, and finally walked with him a little way toward 



JO Introduction 

Edinburgh, in case he should be again attacked. On the 
way, the king asked his companion what and who he was. 
The labourer answered that his name was John Howieson, 
and that he was a bondsman on the farm of Braehead, 
near Cramond, which belonged to the king of Scotland. 
James then asked the poor man if there was any wish in 
the world which he would particularly desire should be 
gratified ; and honest John confessed he should think 
himself the happiest man in Scotland were he but propri- 
etor of the farm on which he wrought as a labourer. He 
then asked the king, in turn, who he was ; and James 
replied, as usual, that he was the Goodman of Ballen- 
giech, a poor man who had a small appointment about 
the palace ; but he added that if John Howieson would 
come to see him on the next Sunday, he would endeavour 
to repay his manful assistance, and at least give him the 
pleasure of seeing the royal apartments. John put on his 
best clothes, as you may suppose, and, appearing at the 
postern gate of the palace, inquired for the Goodman of 
Ballengiech, The king had given orders that he should 
be admitted ; and John found his friend, the goodman, in 
the same disguise which he- had formerly worn. The 
king, still preserving the character of an inferior officer 
of the household, conducted John Howieson from one 
apartment of the palace to another, and was amused with 
his wonder and his remarks. At length James asked his 
visitor if he should like to see the king ; to which John 
replied, nothing would delight him so much, if he could 
do so without giving offence. The Goodman of Ballen- 



Introduction ji 

giech of course undertook that the king would not be 
angry. 'But,' said John, 'how am I to know his Grace 
from the nobles who will be all about him?' 'Easily,* 
replied his companion ; ' all the others will be uncovered. 
The king alone will wear his hat or bonnet.' So speak- 
ing, King James introduced the countryman into a great 
hall, which was filled by the nobility and officers of the 
crown. John was a little frightened, and drew close to 
his attendant ; but was still unable to distinguish the king. 
' I told you that you should know him by his wearing his 
hat,' said the conductor. ' Then,' said John, after he had 
again looked round the room, ' it must be either you or 
me, for all but us two are bareheaded.' The king 
laughed at John's fancy ; and that the good yeoman 
might have occasion for mirth also, he made him a pres- 
ent of the farm of Braehead, which he had wished so 
much to possess, on condition that John Howieson, or 
his successors, should be ready to present a ewer and 
basin for the king to wash his hands, when his Majesty 
should come to Holyrood palace, or should pass the 
bridge of Cramond." 

We see, then, how the poet, finding suggestions in 
such historical situations as that just described, wove into 
them the story of the Lady of the Lake, adding the char- 
acters of Ellen Douglas and her lover, and repeopling the 
glens of the Highlands with warriors, as he had always 
been in the habit of doings for his own pleasure, with 
scenes of historic interest. " I took uncommon pains," 
he said afterward, " to verify the accuracy of the local 



32 Introduction 

circumstances of this story. I recollect in particular 
that to ascertain whether I was telling a probable tale, I 
went into Perthshire, to see whether King James could 
actually have ridden from the banks of Loch Vennachar 
to Stirling Castle within the time supposed in the poem, 
and had the pleasure to satisfy myself that it was quite 
practicable." 

Scott also relates how he read the manuscript of the 
poem to a friend, — a farmer and hunter rather than a 
man of letters, — in order to test its effectiveness. " He 
placed his hand across his brow, and listened with great 
attention through the whole account of the stag-hunt, till 
the dogs threw themselves into the lake to follow their 
master, who embarks with Ellen Douglas. He then 
started up with a sudden exclamation, struck his hand 
on the table, and declared . . . that the dogs must have 
been totally ruined by being permitted to take the water 
after such a severe chase. I own I was much encour- 
aged by the species of revery which had possessed so 
zealous a follower of the sports of the ancient Nimrod 
who had been completely surprised out of all doubts of 
the reality of the tale." 

In 1810, then, The Lady of the Lake was published. 
"I do not recollect," said Mr. Cadell, an Edinburgh 
gentleman of the period, "that any of all the author's 
works was ever looked for with more intense anxiety, 
or that any one of them excited a more extraordinary 
sensation when it did appear. The whole country rang 
with the praises of the poet — crowds set off to view the 



Introduction ^3 

scenery of Loch Katrine, till then comparatively un- 
known ; and as the book came out just before the season 
for excursions, every house and inn in that neighbourhood 
was crammed with a constant succession of visitors." 

This popularity has continued quite to our own time. 
Lockhart thought that, while Marmioii might be consid- 
ered "the most powerful and splendid " of Scott's poems, 
The Lady of the Lake was " the most interesting, roman- 
tic, picturesque, and graceful." Scott himself regarded 
Marmion as being distinguished for its descriptive power, 
The Lady of the Lake for its incidents. But the fact is 
that it is the splendid movement of the story which gives 
life to both poems, as to most of his works. Whether it 
is the hunting of the stag, the wonderful " speeding of the 
cross," the batde in the Trosachs, the single combat at 
Coilantogle Ford, or the games at Stirling, we follow the 
rapid, sure-footed movements of the poet like riders on 
horseback dashing after an intrepid leader. The details 
of style or verse may sometimes be careless enough, but 
the story never flags. 

Scott clearly recognized the real nature of his powers. 
He spoke of the " false gallop " of his verse, not claiming 
for it the subtle harmonies of the master poets, and he 
said that his gift was to present the " picturesque in 
action " rather than in scenery. Yet his sense of the pic- 
turesque in scenery was by no means slight, as The Lady 
of the Latze itself sufficiently proves. The poem has be- 
come the lasting guide-book to the lake region of the 
Scottish Highlands, and the guide not only to its geo- 

I.ADV OF THE LAKE — 3 



34 



Introduction 



graphical details but to their significance and beauty. To 
read it aright, then, one must have in mind this Highland 
region, its extent, divisions, and scenery. 

The whole district that is of interest to readers of The 
Lady of the Lake seems surprisingly small to readers 
familiar with American distances : it covers an area ex- 
tending about fifteen miles to the north and south, and 
twenty-five to the east and west. At the southeast 
corner is Stirling, with its ancient castle ; Loch Lomond 
lies along the western edge, with the mountain Ben 
Lomond rising from its eastern shore ; while through the 
centre of the district runs the chain composed of three 
lakes (Katrine, Achray, and Vennachar) and the river 
Teith. On all sides of these lakes are the peaks, forests, 
and glens of the Highlands. For our purpose two spots 
in the region stand out as of special interest. One of 
them is Coilantogle Ford, at the eastern end of Loch 
Vennachar, the scene of the brilliant combat of Fitz- 
James and Roderick Dhu. The other, even more roman- 
tic in interest, is the eastern end of Loch Katrine, the 
very heart of the country of The Lady of the Lake. 

Standing at this end of the lake, one is overshadowed 
by the peak of Benvenue rising from its southern shore, 
— a peak which, although not lofty as mountain heights 
go in other lands, is likely to be partly shut out from view 
by drifting clouds and morning mists. Under its shadow, 
and seemingly within stone's throw of the shore, is the 
tiny island which Scott conceived to have been the tem- 
porary home of the Douglases, provided for them by 



Introduction 



35 



Roderick in the heart of his dominions, and which has 
ever since gone by the name of " Ellen's Isle." To the 
left the path turns upward into the forest, and is soon 
winding through the wooded glen, with its mountain walls 
rising on each side, to which the mountaineers gave the 
name of '*' the Trosachs " or '' bristling pass." Nowadays 
there is nothing to be heard here but the rustle of the 
leaves, the songs of birds, and occasionally the voices of 
a party of tourists coming through by coach from Loch 
Katrine to Aberfoyle or Callander ; but one is tempted 
to look warily behind trees, and to watch the turn of the 
road, for it was hereabouts that 

" through copse and heath arose 
Bonnets and spears and bended bows," 

and the imaginative wanderer almost wishes for a glimpse 
of one of " Clan-Alpine's warriors true." It is hard to 
realize that four hundred years have passed since King 
James's men and those of the Highland chieftain fought 
and bled here in the " Trosachs' dread defile," or since 
Ellen pushed her little shallop across the lake ; yes, and 
a hundred years even since Walter Scott was here tracing 
out the lines of the poem. So it is that the poets keep 
the old world always young for us, and make the lovers 
and soldiers of long ago our never failing friends. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 



CANTO FIRST 

The Chase 

Harp of the North ! that mouldering long hast hung 

On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring, 
And down the fitful breeze thy numbers ^ flung, 

Till envious ivy did around thee cling, 
Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — c 

O minstrel Harp ! still must thine accents sleep ? 
Mid rustling leaves and fountain's murmuring. 

Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep, 
Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep? 

Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon,^ ic 

Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd. 
When lay of hopeless love, or glory won. 

Aroused the fearful, or subdued the proud. 
At each according pause, was heard aloud 

Thine ardent symphony sublime and high ! 15 

Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed : 

For still"^ the burden of thy minstrelsy 
W'as Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's match- 
less eye. 

' Musical measures. 2 Scotland. ^ Always. 



38 The Lady of the Lake 1 

i 
O wake once more ! how rude soe'er the hand \ 

That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray ; 20 ; 

O wake once more ! though scarce my skill command j 

Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay : ■ 

Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away, ■ 

x\nd all unworthy of thy nobler strain, ] 

Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, 25 \ 

The wizard note has not been touched in vain. ; 

Then silent be no more ! Enchantress, wake again ! ; 



The stag at eve had drunk his fill. 

Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, 

And deep his midnight lair had made 30 

In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; 

But, when the sun his beacon red 

Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head. 

The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay 

Resounded up the rocky way, 35 

And faint, from farther distance borne, 

Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. 



As chief, who hears his warder call, 

' To arms ! the foemen storm the wall,' 

The antlered monarch of the waste ^ 40 

Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. 

1 Wilderness. 



Canto 1 



39 



But, ere his fleet career he took, 

The dew-drops from his flanks he shook ; 

Like crested leader proud and high, 

Tossed his beamed frontlet ^ to the sky ; 45 

A moment gazed adown the dale, 

A moment snuffed the tainted gale, 

A moment listened to the cry 

That thickened as the chase drew nigh ; 

Then, as the headmost foes appeared, 50 

With one brave bound the copse he cleared. 

And, stretching forward free and far, 

Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. 

Ill 
Yelled on the view the opening pack ; 
Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back ; 55 

To many a mingled sound at once 
The awakened mountain gave response. 
A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong, 
Clattered a hundred steeds along. 
Their peal the merry horns rung out, 60 

A hundred voices joined the shout ; 
With hark and whoop and wild halloo, 
No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew. 
Far from the tumult fled the roe, 
Close in her covert cowered the doC; 65 

The falcon, from her cairn - on high, 
Cast on the rout" a wondering eye, 
1 Antlered forehead. '^ Rocky heap. ^ Company. 



40 The Lady of the Lake 

Till far beyond her piercing ken 

The hurricane had swept the glen. 

Faint and more faint, its failing din 70 

Returned from cavern, cliff, and linn,^ 

And silence settled, wide and still. 

On the lone wood and mighty hill. 

IV 

Less loud the sounds of sylvan w^ar 
Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, 75 

And roused the cavern, where, 'tis told, 
A giant made his den of old ; 
For ere that steep ascent was won, 
High in his pathway hung the sun, 
And many a gallant, stayed perforce,^ 80 

Was fain to breathe his faltering horse. 
And of the trackers of the deer 
Scarce half the lessening pack was near ; 
' So shrewdly^ on the mountain-side 

Had the bold burst their mettle tried. 85 



The noble stag was pausing now 

Upon the mountain's southern brow, 

Where broad extended, far beneath, 

The varied realms of fair Menteith. 

With anxious eye he wandered o'er 90 

Mountain and meadow, moss and moor, 

^ Ravine. - By necessity. ^ Severely. 



Canto 1 41 

And ponder'd refuge from his toil, 

By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. 

But nearer was the copsewood ^ grey 

That waved and wept on Loch Achray, 95 

And mingled with the pine-trees blue 

On the bold cliffs of Benvenue. 

Fresh vigour with the hope returned ; 

With flying foot the heath he spurned. 

Held westward with unwearied race, 100 

And left behind the panting chase. 

VI 

'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er, 

As swept the hunt through Cambus-more ; 

What reins were tightened in despair, 

When rose Benledi's ridge in air ; 105 

Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath. 

Who shunned to stem the flooded Teith, — 

For twice that day, from shore to shore, 

The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. 

Few were the stragglers, following far, no 

That reached the lake of Vennachar ; 

And when the Brigg of Turk was won. 

The headmost horseman rode alone. 

VII 

Alone, but with unbated ^ zeal. 
That horseman plied the scourge and steel ; 115 
1 Growth of shrubs or l)ushes. - Undiminished. 



42 The Lady of the Lake 

For jaded now, and spent with toil, 

Embossed with foam,' and dark with soil, 

While every gasp with sobs he drew. 

The labouring stag strained full in view. 

Tw^o dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed, 120 

Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed, 

Fast on his flying traces came. 

And all but won that desperate game ; 

For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch. 

Vindictive toiled the bloodhounds staunch ; 125 

Nor nearer might the dogs attain, 

Nor farther might the quarry^ strain. 

Thus up the margin of the lake, 

Between the precipice and brake, 

O'er stock" and rock their race they take. 130 



VIII 

The hunter marked that mountain high, 
The lone lake's western boundary, 
And deemed the stag must turn to bay, 
Where that huge rampart barr'd the way ; 
Already glorying in the prize, 135 

Measured his antlers with his eyes ; 
For the death-wound and death-halloo 
Mustered his breath, his whinyard"* drew; — 
But thundering as he came prepared, 



^ Foaming with exhaustion. - Hunted animal. ^ Stump. i 

4 Knif^. \ 



Canto I 43 

With ready arm and weapon bared, 140 

The wily quarry shunned the shock, 

And turned him from the opposing rock ; 

Then, dashing down a darksome glen, 

Soon lost to hound and hunter's ken. 

In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook 145 

His solitary refuge took. 

There, while close couched, the thicket shed 

Cold dew^s and wild-flowers on his head. 

He heard the baffled dogs in vain 

Rave through the hollow pass amain, 150 

Chiding the rocks that yelled again. 



IX 

Close on the hounds the hunter came, 

To cheer them on the vanished game ; 

But, stumbling in the rugged dell. 

The gallant horse exhausted fell. 155 

The impatient rider strove in vain 

To rouse him with the spur and rein. 

For the good steed, his labours o'er. 

Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more ; 

Then, touched with pity and remorse, 160 

He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse. 

' I little thought, when first thy rein 

I slacked upon the banks of Seine, 

That Highland eagle e'er should feed 

On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed 1 16; 



44 The Lady of the Lake 

Woe worth ^ the chase, woe worth the day, 
That costs thy hfe, my gallant grey ! ' 



Then through the dell his horn resounds, 

From vain pursuit to call the hounds. 

Back limped, with slow and crippled pace, 170 

The sulky leaders of the chase ; 

Close to their master's side they pressed, 

With drooping tail and humbled crest ; 

But still the dingle's- hollow throat 

Prolonged the swelling bugle-note. 175 

The owlets started from their dream, 

The eagles answered with their scream. 

Round and around the sounds were cast. 

Till echo seemed an answering blast; 

And on the hunter hied his way, 180 

To join some comrades of the day ; 

Yet often paused, so strange the road. 

So wondrous were the scenes it showed. 

XI 

The western waves of ebbing day 
Rolled o'er the glen their level way ; 185 

Each purple peak, each flinty spire. 
Was bathed in floods of living fire. 
But not a setting beam could glow 
Within the dark ravines below, 
i Be to. 2 nien. 



Canto I 



45 



Where twined the path, in shadow hid, 190 

Round many a rocky pyramid, 

Shooting abruptly from the dell 

Its thunder-splintered pinnacle ; 

Round many an insulated mass, 

The native bulwarks of the pass, 195 

Huge as the tower which builders vain 

Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. 

The rocky summits, split and rent, 

Formed turret, dome, or battlement, 

Or seemed fantastically set 200 

With cupola or minaret, 

Wild crests as pagod ^ ever decked, 

Or mosque of Eastern architect. 

Nor were these earth-born castles bare, 

Nor lacked they many a banner fair ; 205 

For, from their shivered brows displayed, 

P'ar o'er the unfathomable glade. 

All twinkling with the dewdrop sheenr 

The brier-rose fell in streamers green. 

And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes, 210 

Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs. 

XII 

Boon ^ nature scattered, free and wild. 
Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. 
Here eglantine embalmed the air, 
Hawthorn and hazel mingled there ; 215 

1 Pagoda. 2 Bright. ^ Bountiful. 



46 The Lady of the Lake 

The primrose pale, and violet flower, 

Found in each cleft a narrow bower ; 

Fox-glove and night-shade, side by side, 

Emblems of punishment and pride. 

Grouped their dark hues with every stain 220 

The weather-beaten crags retain. 

With boughs that quaked at every breath, 

Grey birch and aspen wept beneath ; 

Aloft, the ash and warrior oak 

Cast anchor in the rifted rock ; 225 

And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung 

His shattered trunk, and frequent^ fl'-irig? 

Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high, 

His boughs athwart the narrowed sky. 

Highest of all, where white peaks glanced, 230 

Where glistening streamers waved and danced, 

The wanderer's eye could barely view 

The summer heaven's delicious blue ; 

So wondrous wild, the whole might seem 

The scenery of a fairy dream. 235 

XIII 

Onward, amid the copse 'gan peep 

A narrow inlet, still and deep, 

Affording scarce such breadth of brim 

As served the wild duck's brood to swim. 

Lost for a space, through thickets veering, 240 

1 In abundance. 



Canto 1 47 

But broader when again appearing, 

Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face 

Could on the dark-blue mirror trace ; 

And farther as the hunter strayed, 

Still broader sweep its channels made. 245 

The shaggy mounds nO longer stood, 

Emerging from entangled wood, 

But, wave-encircled, seemed to float. 

Like castle girdled with its moat ; 

Yet broader floods extending still 250 

Divide them from their parent hill. 

Till each, retiring, claims to be 

An islet in an inland sea. 



XIV 

And now, to issue from the glen. 

No pathway meets the wanderer's ken,^ 255 

Unless he climb, with footing nice, 

A far projecting precipice. 

The broom's tough roots his ladder made, 

The hazel saplings lent their aid ; 

And thus an airy point he won, 260 

Where, gleaming with the setting sun, 

One burnished sheet of living gold, 

Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled ; 

In all her length far winding lay. 

With promontory, creek, and bay, 265 

i View. 



270 



275 



48 The Lady of the Lake 

And islands that, empurpled bright, 

Floated amid the livelier light, 

x\nd mountains that like giants stand 

To sentinel enchanted land. 

High on the south, huge Benvenue 

Down to the lake in masses threw 

Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled, 

The fragments of an earlier world ; 

A wildering ^ forest feathered o'er 

His ruined sides and summit hoar. 

While on the north, through middle air, 

Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare. 



XV 

From the steep promontory gazed 

The stranger, raptured and amazed. 

And, ' What a scene were here,' he cried, 280 

' For princely pomp or churchman's pride ! 

On this bold brow, a lordly tower ; 

In that soft vale, a lady's bower; 

On yonder meadow, far away. 

The turrets of a cloister grey ; 285 

How blithely might the bugle-horn 

Chide on the lake the lingering morn 1 

How sweet at eve the lover's lute 

Chime when the groves were still and mute ! 

And when the midnight moon should lave 290 

1 Bewildering. 



Canto I 



49 



Her forehead in the silver wave, 

How solemn on the ear would come 

The holy matins' distant hum, 

While the deep peal's commanding tone 

Should wake, in yonder islet lone, 295 

A sainted hermit from his cell. 

To drop a bead with every knell ! 

And bugle, lute, and bell, and all, 

Should each bewildered stranger call 

To friendly feast and lighted hall. 300 



XVI 

' Blithe were it then to wander here ! 
But now — beshrew yon nimble deer — 
Like that same hermit's, thin and spare, 
The copse must give my evening fare ; 
Some mossy bank my couch must be. 
Some rustling oak my canopy. 
Yet pass we that ; the war and chase 
Give little choice of resting-place ; — 
A summer night in greenwood spent 
Were but to-morrow's merriment : 
But hosts may in these wilds abound. 
Such as are better missed than found; 
To meet with Highland plunderers here. 
Were worse than loss of steed or deer. — 
I am alone ; — my bugle-strain 
May call some straggler of the train ; 

LADY OF THE LAKE — 4 



50 The Lady of the Lake 

Or, fall the worst that may betide, 
Ere now this falchion ^ has been tried.' 

XVII 

But scarce again his horn he wound, 
When lo ! forth starting at the sound, 320 

From underneath an aged oak 
That slanted from the islet rock, 
A damsel guider of its way, 
A little skiff shot to the bay, 
That round the promontory steep 325 

Led its deep line in graceful sweep. 
Eddying, in almost viewless wave. 
The weeping willow twig to lave, 
And kiss, with whispering sound and slow. 
The beach of pebbles bright as snow. 330 

The boat had touched this silver strand. 
Just as the hunter left his stand, 
And stood concealed amid the brake, 
To view this Lady of the Lake. 
The maiden paused, as if again 335 

She thought to catch the distant strain. 
With head upraised, and look intent. 
And eye and ear attentive bent, 
And locks flung back, and lips apart, 
Like monument of Grecian art, 34c 

In listening mood, she seemed to stand, 
The guardian Naiad" of the strand. 
1 Short sword. 2 Water-nymph. 



Canto I 



5' 



XVIII 

And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 

A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, 

Of finer form or loveher face ! 345 

What though the sun, with ardent frown, 

Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, — 

The sportive toil, which, short and light. 

Had dyed her glowing hue so bright. 

Served too in hastier swell to show 350 

Short glimpses of a breast of snow : 

What though no rule of courtly grace 

To measured mood had trained her pace, — 

A foot more light, a step more true, 

Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew ; 355 

E'en the slight harebell raised its head. 

Elastic from her airy tread : 

What though upon her speech there hung 

The accents of the mountain tongue, — 

Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear. 360 

The listener held his breath to hear ! 



XIX 

A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid ; 
Her satin snood, ^ her silken plaid. 
Her golden brooch, such birth betrayed. 
And seldom was a snood amid 365 

Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid, 

1 Hair-ribbon. 



52 The Lady of the Lake 

Whose glossy black to shame might bring 

The plumage of the raven's wing ; 

And seldom o'er a breast so fair, 

Mantled a plaid with modest care, 370 

And never brooch the folds combined 

Above a heart more good and kind. 

Her kindness and her worth to spy, 

You need but gaze on Ellen's eye ; 

Not Katrine in her mirror blue 375 

Gives back the shaggy banks more true, 

Than every free-born glance confessed 

The guileless movements of her breast ; 

Whether joy danced in her dark eye, 

Or woe or pity claimed a sigh, 380 

Or filial love was glowing there. 

Or meek devotion poured a prayer, 

Or tale of injury called forth 

The indignant spirit of the North. 

One only passion unrevealed 385 

With maiden pride the maid concealed, 

Yet not less purely felt the flame ; 

O ! need I tell that passion's name ? 

XX 

Impatient of the silent horn. 

Now on the gale her voice was borne : — 390 

' Father ! ' she cried ; the rocks around 

Loved to prolong the gentle sound. 

A while she paused ; no answer came. — 



Canto I 53 

' Malcolm, was thine the blast ? ' the name 

Less resolutely uttered fell ; 395 

The echoes could not catch the swell. 

' A stranger I,' the huntsman said, 

Advancing from the hazel shade. 

The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar 

Pushed her light shallop^ from the shore, 400 

And when a space was gained between. 

Closer she drew her bosom's screen ; 

(So forth the startled swan would swing 

So turn to prune- his ruffled wing.) 

Then safe, though fluttered and amazed, 405 

She paused, and on the stranger gazed. 

Not his the form, nor his the eye. 

That youthful maidens wont'^ to fly. 

XXI 

On his bold visage middle age 

Had slightly pressed its signet "^ sage, 410 

Yet had not quenched the open truth 

And fiery vehemence of youth ; 

Forward and frolic glee was there. 

The will to do, the soul to dare. 

The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, 415 

Of hasty love or headlong ire. 

His limbs Vv'ere cast in manly mould. 

For hardy sports or contest bold ; 

Boat. - Arrange. ^ Are accustomed. ■* Seal. 



54 The Lady of the Lake 

And though in peaceful garb arrayed, 

And weaponless, except his blade, 420 

His stately mien as well implied 

A high-born heart, a martial pride, 

As if a baron's crest he wore, 

And sheathed in armour trode the shore. 

Slighting the petty need he showed, 425 

He told of his benighted ^ road ; 

His ready speech flowed fair and free, 

In phrase of gentlest courtesy ; 

Yet seemed that tone, and gesture bland, 

Less used to sue than to command. 



XXII 



430 



A while the maid the stranger eyed, 
And, reassured, at length replied, 
That Highland halls were open stilF 
To wildered ^ wanderers of the hill. 
* Nor think you unexpected come 435 

To yon lone isle, our desert home ; 
Before the heath hath lost the dew. 
This morn, a couch was pulled for you ; 
On yonder mountain's purple head 
Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled, 440 

And our broad nets have swept the mere,* 
To furnish forth your evening cheer.' — 
' Now, by the rood,^ my lovely maid, 
Your courtesy has erred,' he said ; 
1 Lost. 2 Always. ^ Bewildered. * Lake. ^ Cross. 



Canto I 55 

* No right have I to claim, misplaced, 445 
The welcome of expected guest. 

A wanderer, here by fortune tost. 

My way, my friends, my courser lost, 

I ne'er before, believe me, fair, 

Have ever drawn your mountain air, 450 

Till on this lake's romantic strand, 

I found a fay in fairy land ! ' — 

XXIII 

* I well believe,' the maid replied, 

As her light skiff approached the side, — 

' I well believe that ne'er before 455 

Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore ; 

But yet, as far as yesternight, 

Old Allan-Bane foretold your plight, — 

A grey-haired sire, whose eye intent 

Was on the visioned future bent. 460 

He saw your steed, a dappled grey, 

Lie dead beneath the birchen way ; 

Painted exact your form and mien, 

Your hunting-suit of Lincoln green, 

That tasselled horn so gaily gilt, 465 

That falchion's crooked blade and hilt. 

That cap with heron plumage trim, 

And yon two hounds so dark and grim. 

He bade that all should ready be 

To grace a guest of fair degree ; 470 

But light I held his prophecy, 



^6 The Lady of the Lake 

And deemed it was my father's horn, 
Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne.' 

XXIV 

The stranger smiled : — ' Since to your home 

A destined errant-knight I come, 475 

Announced by prophet sooth ^ and old, 

Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold^ 

I'll lightly front each high emprise, - 

For one kind glance of those bright eyes. 

Permit me first the task to guide 480 

Your fairy frigate o'er the tide.' 

The maid, with smile suppressed and sly, 

The toil unwonted saw him try ; 

For seldom sure, if e'er before. 

His noble hand had grasped an oar : 4<S5 

Yet with main strength his strokes he drew, 

And o'er the lake the shallop flew ; 

With heads erect, and whimpering cry. 

The hounds behind their passage ply. 

Nor frequent does the bright oar break 490 

The dark'ning mirror of the lake, 

Until the rocky isle they reach. 

And moor their shallop on the beach. 

XXV 

The stranger viewed the shore around ; 

'Twas all so close with copsewood bound, 495 

1 True, ^ Undertaking. 



Canto I 57 

Nor track nor pathway might declare 

That human foot frequented there, 

Until the mountain maiden showed 

A clambering unsuspected road. 

That winded through the tangled screen, 500 

And opened on a narrow green, 

Where weeping birch and willow round 

With their long fibres swept the ground. 

Here, for retreat in dangerous hour, 

Some chief had framed a rustic bower. 505 

XXVI 

It was a lodge of ample size, 

But strange of structure and device ; 

Of such materials as around 

The workman's hand had readiest found. 

Lopped of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, 510 

And by the hatchet rudely squared, 

To give the walls their destined height 

The sturdy oak and ash unite ; 

While moss and clay and leaves combined 

To fence each crevice from the wind. 515 

The lighter pine-trees overhead 

Their slender length for rafters spread. 

And withered heath and rushes dry 

Supplied a russet canopy. 

Due westward, fronting to the green, 520 

A rural portico was seen, 



58 The Lady of the Lake 

Aloft on native pillars borne 

Of mountain fir, with bark unshorn, 

Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine 

The ivy and Idaean vine, 525 

The clematis, the favoured flower 

Which boasts the name of virgin-bower, 

And every hardy plant could bear 

Loch Katrine's keen and searching air. 

An instant in this porch she staid, 530 

And gaily to the stranger said : 

' On heaven and on thy lady call, 

And enter the enchanted hall 1 ' 



XXVII 

* My hope, my heaven, my trust must be, 

My gentle guide, in following thee ! ' 535 

He crossed the threshold — and a clang 

Of angry steel that instant rang. 

To his bold brow his spirit rushed, 

But soon for vain alarm he blushed. 

When on the floor he saw displayed, 540 

Cause of the din, a naked blade 

Dropped from the sheath that, careless flung. 

Upon a stag's huge antlers swung ; 

For all around, the walls to grace, 

Hung trophies of the fight or chase : 545 

A target there, a bugle here, 

A battle-ax, a hunting-spear, 



« 



Canto I 



59 



And broadswords, bows, and arrows store, ^ 

With the tusked trophies of the boar. 

Here grins the wolf as when he died, 550 

And there the wild-cat's brindled hide 

The frontlet of the elk adorns. 

Or mantles o'er the bison's horns ; 

Pennons and flags defaced and stained. 

That blackening streaks of blood retained, 555 

And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white, 

With otter's fur and seal's unite, 

In rude and uncouth tapestry all, 

To garnish forth the sylvan hall. 

XXVIII 

The wandering stranger round him gazed, 560 

And next the fallen weapon raised : — 

Few w^ere the arms whose sinewy strength 

Sufficed to stretch it forth at length : 

And as the brand ^ he poised and swayed 

' I never knew but one,' he said, 565 

' Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield 

A blade like this in battle-field.' 

She sighed, then smiled and took the word : 

'You see the guardian champion's sword ; 

As Hght it trembles in his hand 570 

As in my grasp a hazel wand ; 

My sire's tall form might grace the part 

Of Ferragus or Ascabart ; 

1 In abundance. 2 Sword. 



6o The Lady of the Lake 

But in the absent giant's hold ^ 
Are women now, and menials - old.' 



575 



XXIX 

The mistress of the mansion came, 

Mature of age, a graceful dame ; 

Whose easy step and stately port 

Had well become a princely court ; 

To whom, though more than kindred knew, 580 

Young Ellen gave a mother's due. 

Meet welcome to her guest she made, 

And every courteous rite was paid 

That hospitality could claim, 

Though all unasked his birth and name. 585 

Such then the reverence to a guest, 

That fellest^ foe might join the feast, 

And from his deadliest foeman's door 

Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er. 

At length his rank the stranger names, — 590 

'The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James; 

Lord of a barren heritage, 

Which his brave sires, from age to age. 

By their good swords had held with toil ; 

His sire had fallen in such turmoil, 595 

And he, God wot,'' was forced to stand 

Oft for his right with blade in hand. 

This morning, with Lord Moray's train. 

Castle. - Servants. ^ Deadliest. ^ Knows. 



CajQto I 61 

He chased a stalwart' stag in vain, 

Outstripped his comrades, missed the deer, 600 

Lost his good steed, and wandered here.' 



XXX 

Fain would the knight in turn require^ 

The name and state of Ellen's sire. 

Well showed the elder lady's mien 

That courts and cities she had seen ; 605 

Ellen, though more her looks displayed 

The simple grace of sylvan maid, 

In speech and gesture, form and face, 

Showed she was come of gentle race. 

'Twere strange in ruder rank to find 610 

Such looks, such manners, and such mind. 

Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave. 

Dame Margaret heard with silence grave ; 

Or Ellen, innocently gay, 

Turned all inquiry light away : — 615 

' Weird women - we ! by dale and down 

We dwell, afar from tower and town. 

We stem the flood, we ride the blast, 

On wandering knights our spells we cast; 

While viewless minstrels touch the string. 620 

'Tis thus our charmed rhymes we sing.' 

She sung, and still ^ a harp unseen 

Filled up the symphony between. 

1 Ask. - Witches. ^ Always. 



62 The Lady of the Lake 



XXXI 

SONG 

* Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, 

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; 625 
Dream of battled fields no more, 

Days of danger, nights of waking. 
In our isle's enchanted hall. 

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, 
Fairy strains of music fall, 630 

Every sense in slumber dewing. 
Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er. 
Dream of fighting fields no more : 
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, 
Morn of toil, nor night of waking. 635 

* No rude sound shall reach thine ear. 

Armour's clang, or war-steed champing, 
Trump nor pibroch ^ summon here 

Mustering clan or squadron tramping. 
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 640 

At the day-break from the fallow,^ 
And the bittern sound his drum. 

Booming from the sedgy " shallow. 
Ruder sounds shall none be near, 

Guards nor warders challenge here, 645 

Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing. 
Shouting clans, or squadron's stamping.' 

1 Air played on a bagpipe. - Ploughed land. 

^ Grassy (overgrown with sedge). 



Canto I 63 

XXXII 

She paused — then, blushing, led the lay 

To grace the stranger of the day. 

Her mellow notes awhile prolong 650 

The cadence of the flowing song, 

Till to her lips in measured frame 

The minstrel verse spontaneous came. 

SONG CONTINUED 

Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done ; 

While our slumbrous spells assail ye, 655 

Dream not, with the rising sun, 

Bugles here shall sound reveille.^ 
Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; 

Sleep ! thy hounds are by thefe lying ; 
Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen 660 

How thy gallant steed lay dying. 
Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done, 
Think not of the rising sun, 
For at dawning to assail ye 
Here no bugles sound reveille.' 665 

XXXIII 

The hall was cleared — the stranger's bed 
Was there of mountain heather spread, 
Where oft a hundred guests had lain, 
And dreamed their forest sports again. 
1 Awakening call. 



64 The Lady of the Lake 

But vainly did the heath-liower shed 670 

Its moorland fragrance round his head ; 
Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest 
The fever of his troubled breast. 
In broken dreams the image rose 
Of varied perils, pains, and woes : 675 

His steed now flounders in the brake, 
Now sinks his barge upon the lake ; 
Now leader of a broken host, 
His standard falls, his honour's lost. 
Then, — from my couch may heavenly might 680 
L • Chase that worst phantom of the night ! — 

Again returned the scenes of youth, 
Of confident undoubting truth ; 
Again his soul he interchanged 
With friends w^hose hearts were long estranged. 
They come, in dim procession led, 686 

The cold, the faithless, and the dead ; 
As warm each hand, each brow as gay. 
As if they parted yesterday. 
And doubt distracts him at the view — 690 

O were his senses false or true ? 
Dreamed he of death, or broken vow^, 
Or is it all a vision now ? 

XXXIV 

At length, wdth Ellen in a grove 

He seemed to walk, and speak of love ; 695 

She listened with a blush and sigh, 



Canto I 65 

His suit was warm, his hopes were high. 

He sought her yielded hand to clasp, 

And a cold gauntlet met his grasp : 

The phantom's sex was changed and gone, 700 

Upon its head a helmet shone ; • 

Slowly enlarged to giant size. 

With darkened cheek and threatening eyes, 

The grisly ^ visage, stern and hoar. 

To Ellen still a likeness bore. — 705 

He \voke, and, panting with affright, 

Recalled the vision of the night. 

The hearth's decaying brands - were red, 

And deep and dusky lustre shed. 

Half showing, half concealing, all 710 

The uncouth trophies of the hall. 

Mid those the stranger fixed his eye. 

Where that huge falchion hung on high, 

And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, 

Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along, 715 

Until, the giddy whirl to cure. 

He rose, and sought the moonshine pure. 

XXXV 

The wild-rose, eglantine, and broom, 

W^asted around their rich perfume ; 

The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm, 720 

The aspens slept beneath the calm ; 

1 Horrid. 2 Embers. 

LADY OF THE LAKE — C 



66 The Lady of the Lake 

The silver light, with quivering glance, 

Played on the water's still expanse, — 

Wild were the heart whose passion's sway 

Could rage beneath the sober ray ! 725 

He felt its calm, that warrior guest, 

While thus he communed with his breast: — 

' Why is it, at each turn I trace 

Some memory of that exiled race ? 

Can I not mountain maiden spy, 730 

But she must bear the Douglas eye ? 

Can I not view a Highland brand. 

But it must match the Douglas hand ? 

Can I not frame a fevered dream. 

But still the Douglas is the theme ? 735 

I'll dream no more — by manly mind 

Not even in sleep is will resigned. 

My midnight orisons^ said o'er, 

I'll turn to rest, and dream no more.' 

His midnight orisons he told, 740 

A prayer with every bead of gold, 

Consigned to heaven his cares and woes, 

And sunk in undisturbed repose ; 

Until the heath-cock shrilly crew, 

And morning dawned on Benvenue. 745 

i Prayers. 



CANTO SECOND 

The Island 

I 
At morn the black-cock trims his jetty ^ wing, 

'Tis morning prompts the Hnnet's bhthest lay, 
All Nature's children feel the matin spring 

Of life reviving, with reviving day ; 
And while yon little bark glides down the bay, 5 

Wafting the stranger on his way again, 
Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel grey, 

And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, 
Mixed with the sounding harp, O white-haired Allan- 
Bane ! 

II 

SONG 

' Not faster yonder rowers' might ic 

Flings from their oars the spray. 

Not faster yonder rippling bright, 

That tracks the shallop's course in light, 
Melts in the lake away, 

Than men from memory erase 15 

The benefits of former days ; 

Then, stranger, go ! good speed the while, 

Nor think again of the lonely isle. 

1 Black. 
67 



68 The Lady of the Lake 

' High place to thee in royal court, 

High place in battled line, 20 

Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport ! 
Where beauty sees the brave resort, 

The honoured meed ^ be thine ! 
True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, 
Thy lady constant, kind, and dear, 25 

And lost in love's and friendship's smile 
Be memory of the lonely isle. 

Ill 

SONG CONTINUED 

' But if beneath yon southern sky 

A plaided stranger roam, 
Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh, 30 

And sunken cheek and heavy eye, 

Pine for his Highland home ; 
Then, warrior, then be thine to show 
The care that soothes a wanderer's woe; 
Remember then thy hap erewhile, 35 

A stranger in the lonely isle. 

' Or if on life's uncertain main 

Mishap shall mar thy sail ; 
If faithful, wise, and brave in vain. 
Woe, want, and exile thou sustain 40 

Beneath the fickle gale ; 
Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, 

1 Reward. 



Canto II 69 

On thankless courts, or friends estranged, 

But come where kindred worth shall smile, 

To greet thee in the lonely isle.' 45 

IV 

As died the sounds upon the tide, 

The shallop reached the mainland side. 

And ere his onward way he took, 

The stranger cast a lingering look. 

Where easily his eye might reach 50 

The harper on the islet beach, 

Reclined against a blighted tree, 

As wasted, grey, and worn as he. 

To minstrel meditation given. 

His reverend brow was raised to heaven, 55 

As from the rising sun to claim 

A sparkle of inspiring flame. 

His hand, reclined upon the wire. 

Seemed watching the awakening fire ; 

So still he sate, as those who wait 60 

Till judgement speak the doom of fate ; 

So still, as if no breeze might dare 

To lift one lock of hoary hair ; 

So still, as life itself were fled 

In the last sound his harp had sped. 65 



Upon a rock with lichens wild, 
Beside him Ellen sat and smiled. 



yo The Lady of the Lake 

Smiled she to see the stately drake 

Lead forth his fleet upon the lake, 

While her vexed spaniel from the beach 70 

Bayed at the prize beyond his reach. 

Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows, 

Why deepened on her cheek the rose? — 

Forgive, forgive, Fidelity 1 

Perchance the maiden smiled to see 75 

Yon parting lingerer wave adieu. 

And stop and turn to wave anew ; 

And, lovely ladies, ere your ire 

Condemn the heroine of my lyre. 

Show me the fair would scorn to spy 80 

And prize such conquest of her eye ! 



VI 

While yet he loitered on the spot. 

It seemed as Ellen marked him not; 

But when he turned him to the glade, 

One courteous parting sign she made ; 85 

And after, oft the knight would say. 

That not, \yhen prize of festal day 

Was dealt him by the brightest fair 

Who e'er wore jewel in her hair, 

So highly did his bosom swell, 90 

As at that simple mute farewell. 

Now with a trusty mountain-guide, 

And his dark stag-hounds by his side, 



Canto II 71 



95 



He parts ^ — the maid, unconscious still, 

Watched him wind slowly round the hill ; 

But when his stately form was hid. 

The guardian in her bosom chid — 

' Thy Malcolm ! vain and selfish maid ! ' 

'Twas thus upbraiding conscience said, — 

' Not so had Malcolm idly hung ico 

On the smooth phrase of southern tongue ; 

Not so had Malcolm strained his eye, 

Another step than thine to spy. — 

' \A'ake, Allan-Bane,' aloud she cried 

To the old minstrel by her side, — 105 

'x\rouse thee from thy moody dream, 

I'll give thy harp heroic theme, 

And warm thee with a noble name ; 

Pour forth the glory of the (ira;me ! ' 

Scarce from her lip the word had rushed, no 

When deep the conscious maiden blushed ; 

For of his clan, in hall and bower, - 

Young Malcolm Cira^me was held the flower. 

VII 

The minstrel waked his harp — three times 
Arose the w^ell-known martial chimes, 115 

And thrice their high heroic pride 
In melancholy murmurs died. 
' Vainly thou bidst, O noble maid,' 
Clasping his withered hands, he said, 
1 Departs. - Apartment of the women. 



72 The Lady of the Lake 

' Vainly thou bidst me wake the strain, 120 

Though all unwont to bid in vain. 

Alas ! than mine a mightier hand 

Has tuned my harp, my strings has spanned ! ^ 

I touch the chords of joy, but low 

And mournful answer notes of woe ; 125 

And the proud march, which victors tread, 

Sinks in the wailing for the dead. 

O well for me, if mine alone 

That dirge's deep prophetic tone ! 

If, as my tuneful fathers said, 130 

This harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed, 

Can thus its master's fate foretell. 

Then welcome be the minstrel's knell ! 

VIII 

' But ah ! dear lady, thus it sighed 
The eve thy sainted mother died ; 135 

And such the sounds which, while I strove 
To wake a lay of war or love. 
Came marring all the festal mirth, 
Appalling me who gave them birth, 
And, disobedient to my call, 140 

Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered hall, 
Ere Douglases, to ruin driven, 
Were exiled from their native heaven. — 
Oh ! if yet worse mishap and woe 
My master's house must undergo, 145 

^ Covered with the hand. 



Canto II 73 

Or aught but weal ^ to Ellen fair 

Brood in these accents of despair, 

No future bard, sad Harp ! shall fling 

Triumph or rapture from thy string ; 

One short, one final strain shall flow, 150 

Fraught with unutterable woe, 

Then shivered shall thy fragments lie, 

Thy master cast him down and die! ' 

IX 

Soothing she answer'd him : ' Assuage, 
Mine honoured friend, the fears of age ; 155 

All melodies to thee are known. 
That harp has rung, or pipe has blown. 
In Lowland vale or Highland glen, 
From Tweed to Spey — what marvel, then. 
At times unbidden notes should rise, 160 

Confusedly bound in memory's ties. 
Entangling, as they rush along, 
The war-march with the funeral song ? — 
Small ground is now for boding fear ; 
Obscure, but safe, we rest us here. 165 

My sire, in native virtue great, 
Resigning lordship, lands, and state, 
Not then to fortune more resigned 
Than yonder oak might give - the wind ; 
The graceful foliage storms may reave,^ 170 

The noble stem they cannot grieve. 
^ Good fortune. '^ I.e., yield to. ^ Tear avv'ay. 



74 T^'he Lady of the Lake 

For me,' — she stooped, and, looking round, 

Plucked a blue harebell from the ground, — 

' For me, whose memory scarce conveys 

An image of more splendid days, 175 

This little flower, that loves the lea. 

May well my simple emblem be ; 

It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose 

That in the king's own garden grows ; 

And when I place it in my hair, i5o 

Allan, a bard is bound to swear 

He ne'er saw coronet so fair.' 

Then playfully the chaplet wild 

She wreathed in her dark locks, and smiled. 



Her smile, her speech, with winning sway, 185 

Wiled the old harper's mood away. 

With such a look as hermits throw. 

When angels stoop to soothe their woe, 

He gazed, till fond regret and pride 

Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied : 190 

'Loveliest and best ! thou little know'st 

The rank, the honours, thou hast lost ! 

O might I live to see thee grace. 

In Scotland's court, thy birth-right place. 

To see my favourite's step advance, 195 

The .lightest in the courtly dance, 

The cause of every gallant's sigh, 

And leading star of every eye, 



Canto II 75 

And theme of every minstrel's art, 

The Lady of the Bleeding Heart ! ' 200 

XI 

' Fair dreams are these,' the maiden cried, 

(Light was her accent, yet she sighed ;) 

' Vet is this mossy rock to me 

Worth splendid chair and canopy ; 

Nor would my footstep spring more gay 205 

In courtly dance than blithe strathspey,^ 

Nor half so pleased mine ear incline 

To royal minstrel's lay as thine. 

And then for suitors proud and high. 

To bend before my conquering eye, — 210 

Thou, flattering bard! thyself wilt say, 

That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. 

The Saxon's scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride, 

The terror of Loch Lomond's side, 

Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay 215 

A Lennox foray - — for a day. ' — 

XII 

The ancient bard her glee repressed : 
' "111 hast thou chosen theme for jest ! 
For who, through all this western wild, 
Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled ? 220 
In Holy-Rood a knight he slew ; 
I saw, when back the dirk he drew, 
1 Highland dance. - Raid. 



76 The Lady of the Lake 

Courtiers give place before the stride 

Of the undaunted homicide ; 

And since, though outlawed, hath his hand 225 

Full sternly kept his mountain land. 

Who else dared give — ah ! woe the day. 

That I such hated truth should say — 

The Douglas, like a stricken deer. 

Disowned by every noble peer, 230 

Even the rude refuge we have here ? 

Alas ! this wild marauding chief 

Alone might hazard our relief, 

And, now thy maiden charms expand, 

Looks for his guerdon ^ in thy hand ; 235 

Full soon may dispensation sought, 

To back his suit, from Rome be brought. 

Then, though an exile on the hill, 

Thy father, as the Douglas, still 

Be held in reverence and fear ; 240 

And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear. 

That thou mightst guide with silken thread. 

Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread, 

Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain ! 

Thy hand is on a lion's mane.' — 245 

XIII 

'Minstrel,' the maid replied, and high 
Her father's soul glanced from her eye, 

1 Reward, 



Canto II 77 

' My debts to Roderick's house I know ; 

All that a mother could bestow, 

To Lady Margaret's care I owe, 250 

Since first an orphan in the wild 

She sorrowed o'er her sister's child ; 

To her brave chieftain son, from ire 

Of Scotland's king who shrouds^ my sire. 

A deeper, holier debt is owed ; 255 

And, could I pay it with my blood, 

x\llan ! Sir Roderick should command 

My blood, my life, — but not my hand. 

Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell 

A votaress - in Maronnan's cell ; 260 

Rather through realms beyond the sea. 

Seeking the world's cold charity. 

Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word, 

And ne'er the name of Douglas heard, 

An outcast pilgrim will she rove, 265 

Than wed the man she cannot love. 



XIV 

' Thou shak'st, good friend, thy tresses grey, — 

That pleading look, what can it say 

But what I own ? — I grant him brave, 

But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave ; 270 

And generous — save vindictive mood. 

Or jealous transport, chafe his blood : 

1 Protects. - Nun. 



78 The Lady of the Lake 

I grant him true to friendly band, 
As his claymore ^ is to his hand ; 
But O ! that very blade of steel 275 

More mercy for a foe would feel : 
I grant him liberal, to liing 
Among his clan the wealth they bring, 
When back by lake and glen they wind. 
And in the Lowland leave behind, 280 

Where once some pleasant hamlet stood, 
A mass of ashes slaked with blood. 
The hand that for my father fought 
I honour, as his daughter ought ; 
But can I clasp it reeking red 285 

From peasants slaughtered in their shed ? 
No! wildly while his virtues gleam, 
They make his passions darker seem. 
And flash along his spirit high, 
Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. 290 

While yet a child, — and children know. 
Instinctive taught, the friend and foe, — 
I shuddered at his brow of gloom, 
His shadowy plaid, and sable plume ; 
A maiden grown, I ill could bear 295 

His haughty mien and lordly air : 
But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim, 
In serious mood, to Roderick's name, 
I thrill with anguish ! or, if e'er 
A Douglas knew the word, with fear. 300 

1 Large sword. 



Canto II yc; 

To change such odious theme ^vere best, — 
What thinkst thou of our stranger guest ? ' — 

XV 

' What think I of him ? — woe the while 
That brought such wanderer to our isle ! 
Thy father's battle-brand, of yore 303 

For Tine-man forged by fairy lore, 
What time ^ he leagued, no longer foes, 
His Border spears with Hotspur's bows, 
Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow 
The footstep of a secret foe. 310 

If courtly spy hath harboured here, 
What may we for the Douglas fear ? 
^Vhat for this island, deemed of old 
Clan- Alpine's last and surest hold ? 
If neither spy nor foe, I pray 315 

What yet may jealous Roderick say ? 
— Nay, wave not thy disdainful head, 
Bethink thee of the discord dread 
That kindled, when at Beltane game 
Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Graeme ; 320 
Still, though thy sire the peace renewed, 
Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud. 
Beware ! — But hark, what sounds are these ? 
My dull ears catch no faltering breeze ; 
Xo weeping birch nor aspens wake, 325 

Xor breath is dimpling in the lake ; 
1 At the time when. 



8o The Lady of the Lake 

Still is the canna's ^ hoary beard ; 

Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — 

And hark again ! some pipe of war 

Sends the bold pibroch from afar.' 330 

XVI 

Far up the lengthened lake were spied 
Four darkening specks upon the tide, 
That, slow enlarging on the view. 
Four manned and masted barges grew, 
And, bearing downwards from Glengyle, 335 

Steered full upon the lonely isle ; 
The point of Brianchoil they passed, 
And, to the windward as they cast, 
Against the sun they gave to shine 
The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine. 340 

Nearer and nearer as they bear, 
Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air. 
Now might you see the tartans - brave, 
And plaids and plumage dance and wave : 
Now see the bonnets sink and rise, 345 

As his tough oar the rower plies ; 
See, flashing at each sturdy stroke, 
The wave ascending into smoke ; 
See the proud pipers on the bow. 
And mark the gaudy streamers flow 350 

From their loud chanters^ down, and sweep 
The furrowed bosom of the deep. 
1 Cotton-grass. - Plaid woollens. ^ Pipes (of the bagpipe). 



Canto II 8 1 

As, rushing through the lake amain, 
They plied the ancient Highland strain.. 

XVII 

Ever, as on they bore, more loud 355 

And louder rung the pibroch proud. 
At first the sounds, by distance tame, 
Mellowed along the waters came. 
And, lingering long by cape and bay. 
Wailed every harsher note away ; 360 

Then, bursting bolder on the ear, 
The clan's shrill Gathering^ they could hear, — 
Those thrilling sounds that call the might 
Of old Clan-Alpine to the fight. 
Thick beat the rapid notes, as when 365 

The mustering hundreds shake the glen. 
And, hurrying at the signal dread. 
The battered earth returns their tread. 
Then prelude light, of livelier tone. 
Expressed their merry marching on, 370 

Ere peal of closing battle rose. 
With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows ; 
And mimic din of stroke and ward. 
As broadsword upon target jarred ; 
And groaning pause, ere yet again, 375 

Condensed, the battle yelled amain ; 
The rapid charge, the rallying shout, 
Retreat borne headlong into rout, 
1 Summons to a gathering. 

LADY OF THE LAKE — 6 



82 The Lady of the Lake 

And bursts of triumph, to declare 

Clan-Alpine's conquest — all were there. 380 

Nor ended thus the strain ; but slow, 

Sunk in a moan prolonged and low, 

And changed the conquering clarion swell, 

For wild lament o'er those that fell. 

XVI II 

The war-pipes ceased ; but lake and hill 3S5 

Were busy with their echoes still ; 

And, when they slept, a vocal strain 

Bade their hoarse chorus wake again, 

While loud a hundred clansmen raise 

Their voices in their chieftain's praise. 

Each boatman, bending to his oar. 

With measured sweep the burden bore, 

In such wild cadence as the breeze 

Makes through December's leafless trees. 

The chorus first could Allan know, 

' Roderick Vich x^lpine;^ ho I iro ! ' 

And near, and nearer as they rowed, 

Distinct the martial ditty flowed. 

XIX 

BOAT SONG 

' Hail to the chief who in triumph advances ! 

Honoured and blessed be the ever-green Pine ! 400 

1 Descendant of Alpine. 



390 



393 



Canto II 83 

Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, 
Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line ! 

Heaven send it happy dew, 

Earth lend it sap anew, 
Gayly to bourgeon,^ and broadly to grow, 405 

While every Highland glen 

Sends our shout back again, 
" Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " 

Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, 

Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade ; 410 

When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the 
mountain, 
The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. 
Moored in the rifted rock. 
Proof to the tempest's shock, 
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow ; 415 

Menteith and Breadalbane, then, 
Echo his praise again, 
*' Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " 

XX 

SONG CONTINUEr3 

Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin, 

And Bannochar's groans to our slogan - replied ; 420 

Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, 
And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side. 
1 Bud. 2 War-cry. 



84 The Lady of the Lake 

\\'idow and Saxon maid 

Long shall lament our raid. 
Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe ; 425 

Lennox and Leven-Glen 

Shake when they hear again, 
" Roderigh Yich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe 1 '' 

' Row, vassals, row. for the pride of the Highlands ! 
Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine ! 430 
O that the rose-bud that graces yon islands 

Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine ! 

O that some seedling gem. 

Worthy such noble stem, 
Honoured and blessed in their shadow might grow ! 

Loud should Clan-Alpine then 436 

Ring from her deepmost glen, 
" Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " 

XXI 

With all her joyful female band. 

Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. 440 

Loose on the breeze their tresses flew. 

And high their snowy arms they threw, 

As echoing back with shrill acclaim, 

And chorus wild, the chieftain's name : 

While, prompt to please, with mother's art, 445 

The darling passion of his heart, 

The Dame called Ellen to the strand. 

To greet her kinsman ere he land : 



Canto II 85 

' Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou, 

And shun to wreathe a victor's brow ? ' 450 

Reluctantly and slow, the maid 

The unwelcome summoning obeyed, 

And, when a distant bugle rung, 

In the mid-path aside she sprung : — 

' List, Allan-Bane ! From mainland cast, 455 

I hear my father's signal blast. 

Be ours,' she cried, 'the skiff to guide. 

And waft him from the mountain-side.' 

Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright. 

She darted to her shallop light, 460 

And, eagerly while Roderick scanned, 

For her dear form, his mother's band. 

The islet far behind her lay, 

And she had landed in the bay. 

XXII 

Some feelings are to mortals given, 465 

With less of earth in them than heaven : 

And if there be a human tear 

From passion's dross refined and clear, 

A tear so limpid and so meek, 

It would not stain an angel's cheek, 470 

'Tis that which pious fathers shed 

Upon a duteous daughter's head ! 

And as the Douglas to his breast 

His darling Ellen closely pressed, 



86 The Lady of the Lake 

Such holy drops her tresses steeped, 475 

Though 'twas an hero's eye that weeped. 
Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue 
Her filial welcomes crowded hung, 
Marked she, that fear (affection's proof) 
Still held a graceful youth aloof; 4S0 

No ! not till Douglas named his name, 
Although the youth was Malcolm Graeme. 



XXIII 

Allan, with wistful look the while, 

Marked Roderick landing on the isle ; 

His master piteously he eyed, 4S5 

Then gazed upon the chieftain's pride, 

Then dashed with hasty hand away 

From his dimmed eye the gathering spray ; 

And Douglas, as his hand he laid 

On Malcolm's shoulders, kindly said, 4<)o 

' Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy 

In my poor follower's glistening eye ? 

I'll tell thee : — he recalls the day, 

When in my praise he led the lay 

O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud, 495 

While many a minstrel answered loud. 

When Percy's Norman pennon, won 

In bloody field, before me shone, 

And twice ten knights, the least a name 

As mighty as yon chief may claim, 500 



Canto [I 87 

Gracing my pomp,^ behind me came. 

Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud 

Was 1 of all that marshalled crowd, 

Though the waned crescent owned my might, 

And in my train trooped lord and knight. 505 

Though Blantyre hymned her holiest lays, 

And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise, 

As when this old man's silent tear, 

And this poor maid's affection dear, 

A welcome give more kind and true 510 

Than aught my better fortunes knew\ 

Forgive, my friend, a father's boast, — 

O, it out-beggars all I lost ! ' 

XXIV 

Delightful praise ! — Like summer rose, 

That brighter in the dew-drop glows, 515 

The bashful maiden's cheek appeared. 

For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard. 

The flush of shame-faced joy to hide. 

The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide ; 

The loved caresses of the maid 520 

The dogs with crouch and whimper paid ; 

And, at her whistle, on her hand 

The falcon took his favourite stand, 

Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye, 

Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. 525 

1 Procession. 



88 The Lady of the Lake 

And, trust, while in such guise she stood, 

Like fabled goddess of the wood. 

That if a father's partial thought 

O'erweighed her worth and beauty aught, 

Well might the lover's judgement fail 530 

To balance with a juster scale ; 

For with each secret glance he stole, 

The fond enthusiast sent his soul. 



XXV 

Of stature fair, and slender frame. 

But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme. 535 

The belted plaid and tartan hose 

Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose ; 

His flaxen hair, of sunny hue. 

Curled closely round his bonnet blue. 

Trained to the chase, his eagle eye 540 

The ptarmigan in snow could spy : 

Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath. 

He knew, through Lennox and Menteith ; 

Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe, 

When Malcolm bent his sounding bow ; 545 

And scarce that doe, though winged with fear, 

Outstripped in speed the mountaineer : 

Right up Ben-Lomond could he press, 

And not a sob his toil confess. 

His form accorded with a mind 550 

Lively and ardent, frank and kind ; 



Canto II 89 

A blither heart, till Ellen came, 

Did never love nor sorrow tame ; 

It danced as lightsome in his breast 

As played the feather on his crest. 555 

Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth. 

His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth, 

And bards, who saw his features bold. 

When kindled by the tales of old, 

Said, were that youth to manhood grown, 560 

Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown 

Be foremost voiced by mountain fame. 

But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme. 



XXVI 

Now back they wend their watery way, 

And, ' O my sire ! ' did Ellen say, 565 

' Why urge thy chase so far astray ? 

And why so late returned ? — and why ' — 

The rest was in her speaking eye. 

' My child, the chase I follow far, 

'Tis mimicry of noble war ; 570 

And with that gallant pastime reft^ 

Were all of Douglas I have left. 

I met young Malcolm as I strayed 

Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade. 

Nor strayed I safe ; for all around 575 

Hunters and horsemen scoured the ground. 

1 Taken away. 



JO The Lady of the Lake 

This youth, though still a royal ward, 

Risked life and land to be my guard, 

And through the passes of the wood 

Guided my steps, not unpursued ; 5S0 

And Roderick shall his welcome make, 

Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. 

'ilien must he seek Strath-Endrick glen, 

Nor peril aught for me again.' 



xxvii 

Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, 5S5 

Reddened at sight of Malcolm Gramme, 

Yet not in action, word, or eye, 

Failed aught in hospitality. 

In talk and sport they whiled away 

The morning of that summer day ; 590 

But at high noon a courier light 

Held secret parley with the knight, 

Whose moody aspect soon declared, 

That evil were the news he heard. 

Deep thought seemed toiling in his head ; 595 

Yet was the evening banquet made. 

Ere he assembled round the flame 

His mother, Douglas, and the Grseme, 

And Ellen too ; then cast around 

His eyes, then fixed them on the ground, 600 

As studying phrase that might avail 

Best to convey unpleasant tale. 



Canto II 91 

Long with his dagger's hiU he played, 
Then raised his haughty brow, and said : — 

^-^^ XXVIII 

' Short be my speech ; — nor time affords, 605 
Nor my plain temper, glozing ^ words. 
Kinsman and father, — if such name 
Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim ; 
Mine honoured mother ; — Ellen — why, 
My cousin, turn away thine eye ? — 610 

And Graeme ; in whom I hope to know 
Full soon a noble friend or foe, 
When age shall give thee thy command 
And leading in thy native land, — ■ 
List all! — The king's vindictive pride 615 

Boasts to have tamed the Border-side, 
Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came 
To share their monarch's sylvan game, 
Themselves in bloody toils were snared ; 
And when the bawquet they prepared, 620 

And wide their loyal portals flung, 
O'er their own gateway struggling hung. 
Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead. 
From Yarrow braes, and banks of Tweed, 
Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide, 625 

And from the silver Teviot's side ; 
The dales, where martial clans did ride, 
Are nov/ one sheep-walk, waste and wide. 
1 Smooth, insincere. 



92 The Lady of the Lake 

This tyrant of the Scottish throne, 

So faithless and so ruthless known, 630 

Now hither comes ; his end the same, 

The same pretext of sylvan game. 

What grace for Highland chiefs, judge ye 

By fate of border chivalry. 

Yet more ; amid Glenfinlas' green, 635 

Douglas, thy stately form was seen — 

This by espial ^ sure I know : 

Your counsel, in the streight - I show ? ' 

XXIX 

Ellen and Margaret fearfully 

Sought comfort in each other's eye, 640 

Then turn'd their ghastly look, each one, 

This to her sire — that to her son. 

The hasty colour went and came 

In the bold cheek of Malcolm Graeme ; 

But from his glance it well appeared 645 

'Twas but for Ellen that he feared ; 

While, sorrowful, but undismay'd. 

The Douglas thus his counsel said: — 

' Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar. 

It may but thunder, and pass o'er ; 650 

Nor will I here remain an hour, 

To draw the lightning on thy bower ; 

For well thou know'st, at this grey head 

The royal bolt were fiercest sped. 

1 The work of spies. '•^ Difficulty. 



Canto 1 1 



93 



For thee, who, at thy king's command, 655 

Canst aid him with a gallant band, 

Submission, homage, humbled pride, 

Shall turn the monarch's wrath aside. 

Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart, 

Ellen and I will seek, apart, 660 

The refuge of some forest cell. 

There, like the hunted quarry, dwell, 

Till on the mountain and the moor. 

The stern pursuit be passed and o'er.' 



XXX 



* No, by mine honour,' Roderick said, 665 

' So help me Heaven, and my good blade ! 
No, never ! Blasted be yon Pine, 
My fathers' ancient crest and mine, 
If from its shade in danger part 
The lineage of the Bleeding Heart ! 670 

Hear my blunt speech : grant me this maid 
To wife, thy counsel to mine aid ; 
To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu, 
Will friends and allies flock enow^ ; 
Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, 675 

Will bind to us each western chief. 
When the loud pipes my bridal tell. 
The Links of Forth shall hear the knell, 
The guards shall start in Stirling's porch ; 
And, when I light the nuptial torch, 680 

1 Enough. 



94 The Lady of the Lake 

A thousand villages in flames 

Shall scare the slumbers of King James ! 

— Nay, Ellen, blench ^ not thus away. 

And, mother, cease these signs, I pray ; 

I meant not all my heat might say. 685 

Small need of inroad, or of fight, 

When the sage Douglas may unite 

Each mountain clan in friendly band, 

To guard the passes of their land, 

Till the foiled king from pathless glen 690 

Shall bootless^ turn him home again.' 

XXXI 

There are who have, at midnight hour, 

In slumber scaled a dizzy tower, 

And, on the verge that beetled o'er 

The ocean-tide's incessant roar, 695 

Dreamed calmly out their dangerous dream, 

Till wakened by the morning beam ; 

When, dazzled by the eastern glow. 

Such startler ^ cast his glance below, 

And saw unmeasured depth around. 700 

And heard unintermitted sound. 

And thought the battled fence so frail, 

It waved like cobweb in the gale ; — 

Amid his senses' giddy wheel. 

Did he not desperate impulse feel, 705 

1 Shrink. 2 Without success. ^ I.e. one who is startled. 



Canto II 



9S 



Headlong to plunge himself below, 

And meet the worst his fears foreshow ? — 

Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound,^ 

As sudden ruin yawned around, 

By crossing terrors wildly tossed, 710 

Still for the Douglas fearing most, 

Could scarce the desperate thought withstand, 

To buy his safety with her hand. 



Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy 
in Ellen's quivering lip and eye, 715 

And eager rose to speak — but ere 
His tongue could hurry forth his fear, 
Had Douglas marked the hectic strife, 
Where death seemed combating with life ; 
For to her cheek, in feverish flood, 720 

One instant rushed the throbbing blood, 
Then ebbing back, with sudden sway. 
Left its domain as wan as clay. 
' Roderick, enough ! enough ! ' he cried, 
' My daughter cannot be thy bride ; 725 

Not that the blush to wooer dear, 
Nor paleness that of maiden fear. 
It may not be — forgive her. Chief, 
Nor hazard aught for our relief. 
Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er 730 

Will level a rebellious spear. 
1 Astounded. 



96 The Lady of the Lake 

'Twas I that taught his youthful hand 

To rein a steed and wield a brand ; 

I see him yet, the princely boy ! 

Not Ellen more my pride and joy ; 735 

I love him still, despite my wrongs 

By hasty wrath and slanderous tongues. 

O seek the grace you well may find, 

Without a cause to mine combined I ' 

XXXIII 

Twice through the hall the chieftain strode ; 740 
The waving of his tartans broad, 
And darkened brow, where wounded pride 
With ire and disappointment vied, 
Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light, 
Like the ill demon of the night, 745 

Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway 
Upon the nighted ^ pilgrim's way: 
But, unrequited Love ! thy dart 
Plunged deepest its envenomed smart. 
And Roderick, with thine anguish stung, 750 

At length the hand of Douglas wrung, 
While eyes that mocked at tears before 
With bitter drops were running o'er. 
The death-pangs of long-cherished hope 
Scarce in that ample breast had scope, 755 

But, struggling with his spirit proud. 
Convulsive heaved its chequered shroud,- 
1 Benighted, lost. ~ Garment. 



Canto II 



91 



While every sob — so mute were all — 

Was heard distinctly through the hall. 

The son's despair, the mother's look, 760 

111 might the gentle Ellen brook ; 

She rose, and to her side there came, 

To aid her parting steps, the Graeme. 

XXXIV 

Then Roderick from the Douglas broke — 

As flashes flame through sable smoke, 765 

Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low, 

To one broad blaze of ruddy glow. 

So the deep anguish of despair 

Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. 

With stalwart grasp his hand he laid 770 

On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid : 

' Back, beardless boy ! ' he sternly said, 

' Back, minion ! hold'st thou thus at naught 

The lesson I so lately taught? 

This roof, the Douglas, and that maid, 775 

Thank thou for punishment delayed.' 

Eager as greyhound on his game, 

Fiercely with Roderick grappled Graeme. 

* Perish my name, if aught afford 

Its chieftain safety save his sword ! ' 780 

Thus as they strove, their desperate hand 

Griped to the dagger or the brand. 

And death had been — but Douglas rose, 

LADY OF THE LAKE — 7 



790 



98 The Lady of the Lake 

And thrust between the struggling foes 

His giant strength •. — ' Chieftains, forego ! 

I hold the first who strikes, my foe. — 

Madmen, forbear your frantic jar! 

What ! is the Douglas fallen so far, 

His daughter's hand is deemed the spoil 

Of such dishonourable broil ? ' 

Sullen and slowly they unclasp, 

As struck with shame, their desperate grasp, 

And each upon his rival glared. 

With foot advanced, and blade half bared. 

XXXV 

Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, 795 

Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung. 

And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream, 

As faltered through terrific dream. 

Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword, 

And veiled his wrath in scornful word : 800 

' Rest safe till morning ; pity 'twere 

Such cheek should feel the midnight air ! 

Then mayest thou to James Stuart tell, 

Roderick will keep the lake and fell,^ 

Nor lackey,- with his freeborn clan, Soj 

The pageant pomp of earthly man. 

More would he of Clan-Alpine know. 

Thou canst our strength and passes show. — 

1 Moor. 2 Serve as a menial. 



Canto II 



99 



Malise, what ho ! ' — his henchman came ; 

' Give our safe-conduct to the Grssme.' 8io 

Young Malcolm answered, calm and bold : 

' Fear nothing for thy favourite hold ; 

The spot an angel deigned to grace 

Is blessed, though robbers haunt the place. 

Thy churlish courtesy for those 815 

Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. 

As safe to me the mountain way 

At midnight as in blaze of day, 

Though, with his boldest at his back. 

Even Roderick Dhu beset the track. — 820 

Brave Douglas, — lovely Ellen, — nay, 

Naught here of parting will I say. 

Earth does not hold a lonesome glen 

So secret but we meet again, — 

Chieftain ! we too shall find an hour.' — 825 

He said, and left the sylvan bower. 

XXXVI 

Old Allan followed to the strand, 

(Such w^as the Douglas's command.) 

And anxious told, how, on the morn. 

The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn, 830 

The Fiery Cross should circle o'er 

Dale, glen, and valley, down, and moor. 

Much were the peril to the Graeme, 

From those who to the signal came ; 

LofC. 



lOO The Lady of the Lake 

Far up the lake 'twere safest land, — 835 

Himself would row him to the strand. 

He gave his counsel to the wind, 

While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind, 

Round dirk and pouch and broadsword rolled. 

His ample plaid in tightened fold, 840 

And stripped his limbs to such array 

As best might suit the watery way, — 

XXXVII 

Then spoke abrupt : ' Farewell to thee, 
Pattern of old fidelity ! ' 

The minstrel's hand he kindly pressed, — 845 
' O ! could I point ^ a place of rest ! 
My sovereign holds in ward ^ my land. 
My uncle leads my vassal band ; 
To tame his foes, his friends to aid, 
Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade. 850 

Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme, 
Who loves the chieftain of his name, 
Not long shall honoured Douglas dwell, 
Like hunted stag, in mountain cell ; 
Nor, ere yon pride-swollen robber dare, — 855 
I may not give the rest to air ! 
Tell Roderick Dhu I owed him naught. 
Not the poor service of a boat, 
To waft me to yon mountain-side.' 
Then plunged he in the flashing tide. 860 

^ Show, assign.- - Control. 



Canto II loi 

Bold o'er the flood his head he bore, 

And stoutly steered him from the shore ; 

And Allan strained his anxious eye, 

Far 'mid the lake his form to spy, 

Darkening across each puny wave, 865 

To which the moon her silver gave. 

Fast as the cormorant could skim, 

The swimmer plied each active limb 

Then, landing in the moonlight dell, 

Loud shouted, of his weal to tell. 870 

The minstrel heard the far halloo, 

And joyful from the shore withdrew. 



CANTO THIRD 

The Gathering 

I 

Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore, 

Who danced our infancy upon their knee, 
And told our marvelling boyhood legends store ^ 

Of their strange ventures happed by land or sea, 
How are they blotted from the things that be ! 5 

How few, all weak and withered of their force, 
Wait on the verge of dark eternity, 

Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse, 
To sweep them from our sight ! Time rolls his cease- 
less course. 

Yet live there still who can remember well, 10 

How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew, 
Both field and forest, dingle,- cliff, and dell, 

And solitary heath, the signal knew ; 
And fast the faithful clan around him drew, 

What time the warning note was keenly wound, 15 
What time aloft their kindred banner flew, 

While clamorous war-pipes yelled the gathering 
sound, 
And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round. 

1 In abundance. '^ Glen. 

102 



Canto 111 



103 



II 

The summer dawn's reflected hue 

To purple changed Loch Katrine blue ; 20 

Mildly and soft the western breeze 

Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees ; 

And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, 

Trembled but dimpled not for joy ; 

The mountain-shadows on her breast 25 

Were neither broken nor at rest ; 

In bright uncertainty they lie. 

Like future joys to Fancy's eye. 

The water-lily to the light 

Her chalice reared of silver bright ; 30 

The doe awoke, and to the lawn, 

Begemmed with dew-drops, led her fawn ; 

The grey mist left the mountain-side, 

The torrent showed its glistening pride ; 

Invisible in flecked sky, 35 

The lark sent down her revelry ; 

The blackbird and the speckled thrush 

Good-morrow gave from brake and bush ; 

In answer cooed the cushat dove 

Her notes of peace and rest and love. 40 

III 
No thought of peace, no thought of rest, 
Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. 
With sheathed broadsword in his hand, 
Abrupt he paced the islet strand, 



I04 T'he Lady of the Lake 

And eyed the rising sun, and laid 45 

His hand on his impatient blade. 

Beneath a rock, his vassals' care 

Was prompt the ritual to prepare, 

With deep and deathful meaning fraught ; 

For such Antiquity had taught 50 

Was preface meet, ere yet abroad 

The Cross of Fire should take its road. 

The shrinking band stood oft aghast 

At the impatient glance he cast ; — 

Such glance the mountain-eagle threw, 55 

As, from the cliffs of Benvenue, 

She spread her dark sails on the wind. 

And, high in middle heaven reclined, 

With her broad shadow on the lake, 

Silenced the warblers of the brake. 60 

IV 

V A heap of withered boughs was piled, 
Of juniper and rowan ^ wild, 
Mingled with shivers - from the oak, 
Rent by the lightning's recent stroke. 
Brian the Hermit by it stood, 65 

Barefooted, in his frock and hood. 
His grizzled beard and matted hair 
Obscured a visage of despair ; 
His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er. 
The scars of frantic penance bore. 70 

1 Mountain-ash. ^ Splinters. 



Canto III 



05 



That monk, of savage form and face, 

The impending danger of his race 

Had drawn from deepest solitude, 

Far in Benharrow's bosom rude. 

Not his the mien of Christian priest, 75 

But Druid's, from the grave released. 

Whose hardened heart and eye might brook 

On human sacrifice to look ; 

And much, 'twas said, of heathen lore, 

Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er. 80 

The hallowed creed gave only worse 

And deadlier emphasis of curse ; 

No peasant sought that hermit's prayer, 

His cave the pilgrim shunned with care, 

The eager huntsman knew his bound, 85 

And in mid chase called off his hound ; 

Or if, in lonely glen or strath,^ 

The desert-dweller met his path, 

He prayed, and signed the cross between. 

While terror took devotion's mien. 90 



Of Brian's birth strange tales were told. 
His mother watched a midnight fold, 
Built deep within a dreary glen. 
Where scattered lay the bones of men, 
In some forgotten battle slain, 95 

And bleached by drifting wind and rain. 
1 Valley. 



o6 The Lady of the Lake 

It might have tamed a warrior's heart 

To view such mockery of his art ! 

The knot-grass fettered there the hand 

Which once coukl burst an iron band ; 

Beneath the broad and ample bone 

That bucklered heart to fear unknown, 

A feeble and a timorous guest, 

The field-fare framed her lowly nest ; 

There the slow blind-worm left his slime 

On the fleet limbs that mocked at time ; 

And there, too, lay the leader's skull, 

Still wreathed with chaplet, flushed and full, 

For heath-bell with her purple bloom. 

Supplied the bonnet and the plume. 

All night, in this sad glen, the maid 

Sat shrouded in her mantle's shade : 

— She said no shepherd sought her side, 

No hunter's hand her snood untied. 

Yet ne'er again, to braid her hair. 

The virgin snood did Alice wear ; 

Nor sought she, from that fatal night, 

Or holy church, or blessed rite, 

But locked her secret in her breast, 

And died in travail, unconfessed. 

VI 

Alone, among his young compeers,^ 
Was Brian from his infant years ; 

1 Associates, equals. 



(05 



Canto 111 107 

J 
A moody and heart-broken boy, 125 

Estranged from sympathy and joy, 

Bearing each taunt which careless tongue 

On his mysterious lineage flung. 

Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale, 

To wood and stream his hap to wail, 130 

Till, frantic, he as truth received 

What of his birth the crowd believed. 

And sought, in mist and meteor fire, 

To meet and know his phantom sire ! 

In vain, to soothe his wayward fate, 135 

The cloister oped her pitying gate ; 

In vain the learning of the age 

Unclasped the sable-lettered ^ page ; 

Even in its treasures he could find 

Food for the fever of his mind. 140 

Eager he read whatever tells 

Of magic, cabala,^' and spells. 

And every dark pursuit allied 

To curious and presumptuous pride ; 

Till, with fired brain and nerves o'er-strung, 145 

And heart with mystic horrors wrung, 

Desperate he sought Benharrow's den. 

And hid him from the haunts of men. 

VII 

The desert gave him visions wild, 
Such as might suit the spectre's child. 150 

1 Black-lettered. - Mystical teaching. 



io8 The Lady of the Lake 

Where with black cliffs the torrents toil, 
He watched the wheeling eddies boil, 
Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyes 
Beheld the River Demon rise ; 
The mountain mist took form and limb 155 

Of noontide hag or goblin grim ; 
The midnight wind came wild and dread, 
Swelled with the voices of the dead ; 
Far on the future battle-heath 
His eye beheld the ranks of death : 160 

Thus the lone seer, from mankind hurled. 
Shaped forth a disembodied world. 
One lingering sympathy of mind 
Still bound him to the mortal kind ; 
The only parent he could claim 165 

Of ancient Alpine's lineage came. 
Late had he heard, in prophet's dream. 
The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream ; 
Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast, 
Of charging steeds, careering fast 170 

Along Benharrow's shingly^ side. 
Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride ; 
The thunderbolt had split the pine, — 
All augured ill to Alpine's line. 
He girt his loins, and came to show 175 

The signals of impending woe, 
And now stood prompt to bless or ban,^ 
As bade the chieftain of his clan. 
^ Gravelly. ^ Curse. 



Canto III 109 



'Twas all prepared ; — and from the rock 

A goat, the patriarch of the flock, i8o 

Before the kindling pile was laid. 

And pierced by Roderick's ready blade. 

Patient the sickening victim eyed 

The life-blood ebb in crimson tide, 

Down his clogged beard and shaggy limb, 185 

Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. 

The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, 

A slender crosslet ^ framed with care, 

A cubit's length in measure due ; 

The shaft and limbs were rods of yew,- 190 

Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave 

Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave, , 

And, answering Lomond's breezes deep, 

Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. 

The Cross thus formed he held on high, 195 

With wasted hand and haggard eye, 

And strange and mingled feelings woke, 

While his anathema ^ he spoke. 



IX 



* Woe to the clansman, who shall view 
This symbol of sepulchral yew, 
Forgetful that its branches grew 

1 Small cross. 2 Curse. 



The Lady of the Lake 

Where weep the heavens their hoHest dew 

On Alpine's dweUing low ! 
Deserter of his chieftain's trust, 
He ne'er shall mingle with their dust, 
But, from his sires and kindred thrust, 
Each clansman's execration just 

Shall doom him wrath and woe.' 
He paused ; — the word the vassals took, 
With forward step and fiery look, 
On high their naked brands they shook, 
Their clattering targets wildly strook^ ; 

And first in murmur low, 
Then, like the billow in his course, 
That far to seaward finds his source. 
And flings to shore his mustered force, 
Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse, 

' Woe to the traitor, woe ! ' 
Ben-an's grey scalp the accents knew, 
The joyous wolf from covert drew. 
The exulting eagle screamed afar, — 
They knew the voice of Alpine's war. 



The shout was hushed on lake and fell. 
The monk resumed his muttered spell : 
Dismal and low its accents came, 225 

The while he scathed - the Cross with flame ; 

1 Struck. - Scarred. 



Canto III 



1 1 1 



And the few words that reached the air, 

Although the holiest name was there, 

Had more of blasphemy than prayer. 

But when he shook above the crowd 230 

Its kindled points, he spoke aloud : — 

' Woe to the wretch who fails to rear 

At this dread sign the ready spear ! 

For, as the flames this symbol sear, 

His home, the refuge of his fear, 235 

A kindred fate shall know ; 
Far o'er its roof the volumed flame 
Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim, 
While maids and matrons on his name 
Shall call down wretchedness and shame, 240 

And infamy and woe.' 
Then rose the cry of females, shrill 
As goshawk's whistle on the hill. 
Denouncing misery and ill, 
Mingled with childhood's babbling trill 245 

Of curses stammer'd slow ; 
Answering, with imprecation dread, 
' Sunk be his home in embers red ! 
And cursed be the meanest shed 
That e'er shall hide the houseless head 250 

We doom to want and woe 1 ' 
A sharp and shrieking echo gave, 
Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave ! 
And the grey pass where birches wave 

On Beala-nam-bo. 255 



12 The Lady of the Lake 



Then deeper paused the priest anew, 

And hard his labouring breath he drew, 

While, with set teeth and clenched hand, 

And eyes that glowed like fiery brand. 

He meditated curse more dread, 260 

And deadlier, on the clansman's head, 

Who, summoned to his chieftain's aid, 

The signal saw and disobeyed. 

The crosslet's points of sparkling wood, 

He quenched among the bubbling blood, 265 

And, as again the sign he reared, 

Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard : 

' When flits this Cross from man to man, 

Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan, 

Burst be the ear that fails to heed ! 270 

Palsied the foot that shuns to speed 

May ravens tear the careless eyes, 

Wolves make the coward heart their prize ! 

As sinks that blood-stream in the earth, 

So may his heart's-blood drench his hearth] 275 

As dies in hissing gore the spark, 

Quench thou this light. Destruction dark! 

And be the grace to him denied. 

Bought by this sign to all beside ! ' 

He ceased ; no echo gave again 280 

The murmur of the deep Amen. 



Canto III 113 

XII 

• 
Then Roderick, with impatient look, 
From Brian's hand the symbol took : 
' Speed, Malise, speed ! ' he said, and gave 
The crosslet to his henchman brave. 285 

* The muster-place be Lanrick mead — 
Instant the time — speed, Malise, speed! ' 
Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue, 
A barge across Loch Katrine flew^ ; 
High stood the henchman on the prow ; 290 

So rapidly the barge-men row. 
The bubbles, where they launched the boat, 
Were all unbroken and afloat. 
Dancing in foam and ripple still. 
When it had neared the mainland hill ; 295 

And from the silver beach's side 
Still was the prow three fathom wdde, 
When lightly bounded to the land 
The messeno'cr of blood and brand. 



XIII 

Speed, Malise, speed ! the dun deer's hide 300 

On fleeter foot was never tied. 

Speed, Malise, speed ! such cause of haste 

Thine active sinews never braced. 

Bend 'gainst the steepy^ hill thy breast, 

Burst down like torrent from its crest ; 305 

1 Steep. 

LADY OF THE LAKE — 8 



114 The Lady of the Lake 

With short and springing footstep pass 

The trembling bog and false morass ; 

Across the brook like roebuck bound, 

And thread the brake like questing ^ hound : 

The crag is high, and scaur- is deep, 310 

Yet shrink not from the desperate leap : 

Parched are thy burning lips and brow, 

Yet by the fountain pause not now ; 

Herald of battle, fate, and fear, 

Stretch onward in thy fleet career ! 315 

The wounded hind thou track'st not now, 

Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough, 

Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace 

With rivals in the mountain race ; 

But danger, death, and warrior deed 320 

Are in thy course — speed, Malise, speed! 

XIV 

Fast as the fatal symbol flies, 
In arms the huts and hamlets rise ; 
From winding glen, from upland brown, 
They poured each hardy tenant down. 325 

Nor slacked the messenger his pace ; 
He showed the sign, he named the place, 
And, pressing forward like the wind. 
Left clamour and surprise behind. 
The fisherman forsook the strand, 330 

The swarthy smith took dirk and brand ; 
1 Seeking the game. 2 Qjff^ precipice. 



Canto III 115 

With changed cheer/ the mower bHthe 

Left in the half-cut swath his scythe ; 

The herds without a keeper strayed, 

The plough was in mid-furrow staid, 335 

The falconer tossed his hawk away, 

The hunter left the stag at bay; 

Prompt at the signal of alarms, 

Each son of Alpine rushed to arms ; 

So swept the tumult and affray 340 

Along the margin of Achray. 

Alas, thou lovely lake ! that e'er 

Thy banks should echo sounds of fear ! 

The rocks, the bosky ^ thickets, sleep 

So stilly on thy bosom deep, 345 

The lark's blithe carol, from the cloud. 

Seems for the scene too gaily loud. 

XV 

Speed, Malise, speed ! — The lake is past, 
Duncraggan's huts appear at last, 
And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, 350 
Half hidden in the copse so green ; 
There mayest thou rest, thy labour done. 
Their lord shall speed the signal on. — 
As stoops the hawk upon his prey, 
The henchman shot him down the way. 355 

— What woeful accents load the gale ? 
The funeral yell, the female wail ! 
1 Look. 2 Bushy. 



ii6 The Lady of the Lake 

A gallant hunter's sport is o'er, 

A valiant warrior fights no more. 

Who, in the battle or the chase, 360 

At Roderick's side shall fill his place — 

Within the hall, where torch's ray 

Supplies the excluded beams of day, 

Lies Duncan on his lowly bier, 

And o'er him streams his widow's tear. 365 

His stripling son stands mournful by, 

His youngest weeps, but knows not why ; 

The village maids and matrons round 

The dismal coronach ^ resound.' 

XVI 
CORONACH 

* He is gone on the mountain, 370 

He is lost to the forest, 
Like a summer-dried fountain, 

When our need was the sorest. 
The font,"^ reappearing, 

From the rain-drops shall borrow, 375 

But to us comes no cheering. 

To Duncan no morrow ! 

' The hand of the reaper 

Takes the ears that are hoary. 
But the voice of the weeper 380 

Wails manhood in glory. 

^ Funeral lamentation. '^ Make to resound. ^ Fountain, spring. 



Canto III 117 

* The autumn winds rushing 

Waft the leaves that are searest, 
But our flower was in flushing, 

When bhghting was nearest. 385 

' Fleet foot on the correi/ 

Sage counsel in cumber,- 
Red hand in the foray, — 

How sound is thy slumber ! 
Like the dew on the mountain, 390 

Like the foam on the river, 
Like the bubble on the fountain, 

Thou art gone, and for ever ! ' 

XVII 

See Stumah, who, the bier beside, 

His master's corpse with wonder eyed, 395 

Poor Stumah ! whom his least halloo 

Could send like lightning o'er the dew. 

Bristles his crest, and points his ears. 

As if some stranger step he hears. 

'Tis not a mourner's muffled tread, 400 

Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead, 

But headlong haste, or deadly fear. 

Urge the precipitate career. 

All stand aghast : — unheeding all. 

The henchman bursts into the hall ; 405 

1 Hollowed hillside. 2 Trouble. 



I iK 



I'Ik- L.i.Iv ..I ill.' I ..>kc 



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I I. I.I Icllli III! ( In-.', Iu-Mili',llri| With I>Iim>i| 
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.S|M'i'(| Ini III llir M^;ii.il ! I l.iiiMiii-li, :.|)('(-(l I ' 

Will 



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S|>Miiif, liulli .111(1 ,s('i/('<l (lie lalal si|;i). 

ill h.i-.lr (III- .11 ipliiif, In liis side 

I h'. I.illii'i ''. (Ink .iiiil l.i...iil',\\(M(l iK-d , 

liiil w Inn lir ,'..i\v Ins iiiiiIIut'.s vyv 

W.ilt li Iniii III ,'.|»ri'( lilcss a;.M>MV, |i 

II. K K li ) liri I i|)riir(| .il iir. lie lieu , 

I'icMscd on lici lips it loud iulicii 

' .'\htsl ' ,slu* Sdhlx'd, ' .\\\{\ \r{ Im- j'.nllt', 

And '.|M'('d llicc loilh, like I >iini .in'-, -.on ! ' 

< Mu' look lie ( ;inI ii|i(tn llir luci , | .•. 

hushed lioin Ins cnc llir ,",.illiii in;; li.ii, 

llic.illicd i\ir\) lo ( Ic.ii III-. l.il>oniiii<>, htr.i-.l, 

And l.>-.-,('d .doll III-, honncl ( ir-.l , 

riicn, like llu- lii;di hied ( nil, wlicii. Iircd, 

I' II -.1 lie (-.-..IN -. III-. Iiic .ind '.|i(i(l, I • 

I l(- \ .1111. Ilrd. .111(1 o'(-| lllool ,ind llio.s.-t 

,S|t(-d loiw.ild Willi llu- I'lriN ( 'I'OMS. 

.Sn.prndcd was llu* widow'-. Icii. 

\\ lull- \('l his loolslcps slu- i oiild lu-.ii , 

And wlini -.lie ni.iiki-d llu- hciu Inuan's r\(' .| i. 

W'cl Willi nnwt>nl(-d -.n iiip.illi\ , 



( iiriln ill 



"V 



* K iir»iii;iii,' 'til' t.iid, ' III', i.K »• !•> Mill 
I ll.ll '.llMiiM li;iv<' -i|M'<l lIlllK . ii.iimI Mil ; 
I lie 'mI-. Ii.r, hlllcil, III'' '. 11*11111: ImmimIi 
If* illl I hllK I.I^^JIIl'fS fill( llrl |M,VV 
V«*l Illl. I I WrII, ili't «|llly <|(<lir, 

'I'lir »»i |»li;iir'i (J<mI will |.Miiii(l my funi, 

And ynii, in in, my .1 «l,inj'ri ii nr, 

Al l)iiin;iii''» Im")| ' yoiii lihirlri llml <Im'W, 

To ititti't, :iimI ^mi;iI(I IIimI Mi|)liiiii'') lir;i<| I 

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'i licll W(M|/<ill ( I. III!' .111(1 III. II ll.ll < .ill 

l<('fi()l|ll(|r<| l|i|(Mi;'li III' iiiiM l.il li.ill, 

Wllilr holii llir W.lll', III. .,11. imI.iiiI ImimI 

Sinil( li* <l '>WMi i| ,iii(l l.ii^M' ^ Willi Inn I I'd ll.ll 

And -iliMil ,iiid (IiiIiiij: (MMTf/y 

( f l;iii< < 'I 1 1 mil I In- iimhii in 1 '■> ■.iinKcu lyi , 

Af> ll III'' •.oiind'. lo Will I I'd d' ,11 

Mi^lil roii')<' Ik I hiiiM .III li'Mii In, hii'i, 

hill (:id<'d *uii)U llnil h'tnowd \ntii , 

(«ti<'| ( hniin'd lii-) iif^dil, ;ind I' ;ii , iIm 11 ' nwi 



'111 



ll' lll''ll v;! W III' < I'C'i ';l I' if r, 

ll id.iiM "I III"' lii'liiinnj/, np Sh.iili li< 
(>Vi d.il' .ind lull lln- 'niMiiii'Wn ll'-w, 
No» II A iioi |(,iir,r yonni-', Aiif.;iif> UtU'W 
'I li< l< .11 llnil |';illi' I' «l III Id;) cyr 
1 1< I' ll ill'' ni'Hint;iin ln«'<'/i' in di y ; 

' < 'Mitin;ui'l, '^ Sjllt^j'l, 



'ill 



I20 The Lady of the Lake 

Until, where Teith's young waters roll 

Betwixt him and a wooded knoll 

That graced the sable strath^ with green, 460 

The chapel of St. Bride was seen. 

Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge, 

But Angus paused not on the edge ; 

Though the dark waves danced dizzily, 

Though reeled his sympathetic eye, 465 

He dashed amid the torrent's roar : 

His right hand high the crosslet bore, 

His left the pole-ax grasped, to guide 

And stay his footing in the tide. 

He stumbled twice — the foam splashed high, 

With hoarser swell the stream raced by ; 471 

And had he fallen, — for ever there. 

Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir ! 

But still, as if in parting life. 

Firmer he grasped the Cross of strife, 475 

Until the opposing bank he gained. 

And up the chapel pathway strained. 

XX 

A blithesome rout,- that morning tide,^ 
Had sought the chapel of St. Bride. 
Her troth Tombea's Mary gave 480 

To Norman, heir of Armandave, 
And, issuing from the Gothic arch, 
The bridal now resumed their march. 
1 Dark valley. ^ Company. ^ Time. 



Canto III 121 

In rude but glad procession came 

Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame : 485 

And plaided youth, with jest and jeer. 

Which snooded maiden would not hear ; 

And children, that, unwitting^ why, 

Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry ; 

And minstrels, that in measures vied 490 

Before the young and bonny bride. 

Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose 

The tear and blush of morning rose. 

With virgin step, and bashful hand, 

She held the kerchief's snowy band ; 495 

The gallant bridegroom by her side 

Beheld his prize with victor's pride, 

And the glad mother in her ear 

Was closely whispering word of cheer. 

XXI 

Who meets them at the churchyard gate ? 500 
The messenger of fear and fate ! 
Haste in his hurried accent lies, 
And grief is swimming in his eyes. 
All dripping from the recent flood. 
Panting and travel-soiled he stood, 505 

The fatal sign of fire and sword 
Held forth, and spoke the appointed word : 
* The muster-place is Lanrick mead — 
Speed forth the signal ! Norman, speed ! ' 
1 Not knowing. 



122 The Lady of the Lake 

And must he change so soon the hand, 510 

Just hnked to his by holy band, 

For the fell Cross of blood and brand ? 

And must the day so blithe that rose. 

And promised rapture in the close, 

Before its setting hour, divide 515 

The bridegroom from the plighted bride ? 

O fatal doom ! — it must ! it must ! 

Clan-Alpine's cause, her chieftain's trust. 

Her summons dread, brook no delay ; 

Stretch to the race — away ! away ! 520 

XXII 

Yet slow he laid his plaid aside, 

And, lingering, eyed his lovely bride, 

Until he saw the starting tear 

Speak woe he might not stop to cheer ; 

Then, trusting not a second look, 525 

In haste he sped him up the brook, 

Nor backward glanced, till on the heath 

Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith. 

— What in the racer's bosom stirred? 

The sickening pang of hope deferred, 530 

And memory, with a torturing train 

Of all his morning visions vain. 

Mingled with love's impatience, came 

The manly thirst for martial fame, 

The stormy joy of mountaineers, 535 

Ere yet they rush upon the spears. 



Ca?ito III I2J 

And zeal for clan and chieftain burning, 

And hope, from well-fought field returning, 

With war's red honours on his crest, 

To clasp his Mary to his breast. 540 

Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and l)rae,' 

Like fire from flint he glanced away, 

While high resolve and feeling strong 

Burst into voluntary song. 

XXIII 

SONG 

' The heath this night must be my bed, 545 

The bracken - curtain for my head. 
My lullaby the warder's tread. 

Far, far, from love and thee, Mary ; 
To-morrow eve, more stilly laid, 
My couch may be my bloody plaid, 550 

My vesper song thy wail, sweet maid ! 

It will not waken me, Mary 1 

' I may not, dare not, fancy now 
The grief that clouds thy lovely brow ; 
I dare not think upon thy vow, 555 

And all it promised me, Mary ! 
No fond regret must Norman know ; 
When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe, 
His heart must be like bended bow, 

His foot like arrow free, Mary. 560 

1 Hillside. '^ Fern. 



124 '^'"'^ Lady of the Lake 

* A time will come with feeling fraught, 
For, if I fall in battle fought. 
Thy hapless lover's dying thought 

Shall be a thought of thee, Mary. 
And if returned from conquered foes, 565 

How blithely will the evening close, 
How sweet the linnet sing repose. 
To my young bride and me, Mary ! ' 

XXIV 

Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, 
Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze, 570 

Rushing, in conflagration strong, 
Thy deep ravines and dells along, 
Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow, 
And reddening the dark lakes below ; 
Nor faster speeds it, nor so far, 575 

As o'er thy heaths the voice of war. 
The signal roused to martial coiP 
The sullen margin of Loch Voil, 
Waked still Loch Doine, and to the source 
Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course ; 580 

Thence southward turned its rapid road 
Adown Strath-Ciartney's valley broad, 
Till rose in arms each man might claim 
A portion in Clan-Alpine's name, 
From the grey sire, whose trembling hand 585 
Could hardly buckle on his brand, 
1 Tumult. 



Canto III 125 

To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow 

Were yet scarce terror to the crow. 

Each valley, each sequestered glen, 

Mustered its little horde of men, 590 

That met as torrents from the height 

In Highland dales their streams unite, 

Still gathering, as they pour along, 

A voice more loud, a tide more strong, 

Till at the rendezvous they stood 595 

By hundreds, prpmpt for blows and blood ; 

Each trained to arms since life began. 

Owning no tie but to his clan. 

No oath but by his chieftain's hand, 

No law but Roderick Dhu's command. 600 

XXV 

That summer morn had Roderick Dhu 
Surveyed the skirts of Benvenue, 
And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath. 
To view the frontiers of Menteith. 
All backward came with news of truce ; 605 

Still lay each martial Gramme and Bruce ; 
In Rednoch courts no horsemen wait, 
No banner waved on Cardross gate. 
On Duchray's towers no beacon shone, 
Nor scared the herons from Loch Con ; 610 

All seemed at peace. — Now wot^ ye why 
The chieftain, with such anxious eye, 
1 Know. 



126 The Lady of the Lake 

Ere to the muster he repair, 

This western frontier scanned with care ? — 

In Ben venue's most darksome cleft, 615 

A fair, though cruel, pledge was left ; 

For Douglas, to his promise true. 

That morning from the isle withdrew, 

And in a deep sequestered dell 

Had sought a low and lonely cell. 620 

By many a bard, in Celtic tongue, 

Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung ; 

A softer name the Saxons gave, 

And called the grot the Goblin Cave. 

XXVI 

It was a wild and strange retreat, 625 

As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. 

The dell, upon the mountain's crest, 

Yawned like a gash on warrior's breast ; 

Its trench had staid full many a rock. 

Hurled by primeval earthquake shock 630 

From Benvenue's grey summit wild. 

And here, in random ruin piled. 

They frowned incumbent o'er the spot, 

And formed the rugged sylvan grot. 

The oak and birch, with mingled shade, 635 

At noontide there a twilight made. 

Unless when short and sudden shone 

Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, 

With such a glimpse as prophet's eye 



Canto III 127 

Gains on thy depth, Futurity. 640 

No murmur waked the solemn still,^ 

Save tinkling of a fountain rill ; 

But when the wind chafed with the lake, 

A sullen sound would upward break, 

With dashing hollow^ voice, that spoke 645 

The incessant war of wave and rock. 

Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway. 

Seemed nodding o'er the cavern grey. 

From such a den the wolf had sprung. 

In such the wald-cat leaves her young ; 650 

Yet Douglas and his daughter fair 

Sought for a space their safety there. 

Grey Superstition's whisper dread 

Debarred the spot to vulgar tread ; 

For there, she said, did fays - resort, 655 

x4nd satyrs ^ hold their sylvan court. 

By moonlight tread their mystic maze, 

And blast the rash beholder's gaze. 

XXVII 

Now eve, wdth western shadows long, 

Floated on Katrine bright and strong, 660 

When Roderick, with a chosen few. 

Repassed the heights of Benvenue. 

Above the Goblin Cave they go. 

Through the wdld pass of Beal-nam-bo ; 

1 Stillness. - Fairies. ^ Fabled creatures of the woods. 



128 The Lady of the Lake 

The prompt retainers speed before, 663 

To launch the shallop from the shore, 

For 'cross Loch Katrine lies his way 

To view the passes of Achray, 

And place his clansmen in array. 

Yet lags the chief in musing mind, 670 

Unwonted sight, his men behind. 

A single page, to bear his sword. 

Alone attended on his lord ; 

The rest their way through thickets break, 

And soon await him by the lake. 675 

It was a fair and gallant sight. 

To view them from the neighbouring height. 

By the low-levelled sunbeams light ! 

For strength and stature, from the clan 

Each warrior was a chosen man, 680 

As even afar might well be seen, 

By their proud step and martial mien. 

Their feathers dance, their tartans float, 

Their targets gleam, as by the boat 

A wild and warlike group they stand, 685 

That well became such mountain-strand. 

XXVIII 

Their chief, with step reluctant, still 

Was lingering on the craggy hill, 

Hard by where turned apart the road 

To Douglas's obscure abode. 690 

It was but with that dawning morn 



Canto 111 129 

That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn 

To drown his love in war's wild roar, 

Nor think of Ellen Douglas more ; 

But he who stems a stream with sand, 695 

And fetters flame with flaxen band. 

Has yet a harder task to prove — 

By firm resolves to conquer love ! 

F.ve finds the chief, like restless ghost. 

Still hovering near his treasure lost ; 700 

For though his haughty heart deny 

A parting meeting to his eye, 

Still fondly strains his anxious ear 

The accents of her voice to hear. 

And inly did he curse the breeze 705 

That waked to sound the rustling trees. 

But hark ! what mingles in the strain ? 

It is the harp of Allan-Bane, 

That wakes its measure slow and high, 

Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. 710 

What melting voice attends the strings ? 

'Tis Ellen, or an angel, sings. 

XXIX 

HYMN TO THE VIRGIN 

Ave Maria f^ maiden mild ! 

Listen to a maiden's prayer ! 
Thou canst hear though from the wild, 715 

Thou canst save amid despair. 
1 Hail Mary. 

LADY OF THE LAKE — 9 



ijo The Lady of the Lake 

' Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, 

Though banished, outcast, and reviled — 
Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer ! 

Mother, hear a suppliant child ! 720 

Ave Maria f 

^ Ave Maria ! un defiled ! 

The flinty couch we now must share 
Shall seem with down of eider piled, 

If thy protection hover there. 
The murky cavern's heavy air 725 

Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled ; 
Then, Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer ! 
Mother, list a suppliant child ! 

Ave Maria ! 

* Ave Maria ! stainless styled ! 

Foul demons of the earth and air, 730 

From this their wonted haunt exiled, 
Shall flee before thy presence fair. 
We bow us to our lot of care. 

Beneath thy guidance reconciled ; 
Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer ! 735 

And for a father hear a child ! 

Ave Maria ! ' 



XXX 

Died on the harp the closing hymn. 
Unmoved in attitude and limb, 



Canto III 



131 



As listening still, Clan-Alpine's lord 

Stood leaning on his heavy sword, 740 

Until the page, with humble sign, 

Twice pointed to the sun's decline. 

Then, while his plaid he round him cast, 

' It is the last time — 'tis the last,' 

He muttered thrice, — ' the last time e'er 745 

That angel voice shall Roderick hear ! ' 

It was a goading thought — his stride 

Hied hastier ^ down the mountain-side ; 

Sullen he liung him in the boat. 

And instant - 'cross the lake it shot. 750 

They landed in that silvery bay. 

And eastward held their hasty way. 

Till, with the latest beams of light, 

The band arrived on Lanrick height, 

Where mustered, in the vale below, 755 

Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. 

XXXI 

A various scene the clansmen made ; 
Some sat, some stood, some slowly strayed ; 
But most, with mantles folded round, 
Were couched to rest upon the ground, 760 

Scarce to be known by curious eye 
From the deep heather where they lie. 
So well M^as matched the tartan screen 
With heath-bell dark and brackens green ; 
1 Hastened more rapidly. - Instantly. 



132 The Lady of the Lake 

Unless where, here and there, a blade 765 

Or lance's point a glimmer made, 

Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade. 

But when, advancing through the gloom. 

They saw the chieftain's eagle plume. 

Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide, 770 

Shook the steep mountain's steady side. 

Thrice it arose, and lake and fell 

Three times returned the martial yell ; 

It died upon Bochastle's plain, 

And Silence claimed her evening reign. 775 



CANTO FOURTH 

The Prophecy 

I 
' The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, 

And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears ; 
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew, 

And love is lovehest when embahned in tears. 
O wilding^ rose, whom fancy thus endears, 5 

I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, 
Emblem of hope and love through future years ! ' — 

Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, 
What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave. 

II 

Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, lo 

Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. 
All while he stripped the wild-rose spray, 
His ax and bow beside him lay. 
For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood, 
A wakeful sentinel he stood. 15 

Hark ! on the rock a footstep rung. 
And instant to his arms he sprung. 
' Stand, or thou diest ! — What, Malise ? — soon 
Art thou returned from Braes of Doune. 
i Wild. 
U3 



134 l^G Lady of the Lake 

By thy keen step and glance I know 20 

Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe.' — 

(For while the Fiery Cross hied on, 

On distant scout ^ had Malise gone.) 

'Where sleeps the chief?' the henchman said. — 

' Apart, in yonder misty glade ; 25 

To his lone couch I'll be your guide.' — 

Then called a slumberer by his side, 

And stirred him with his slackened bow — 

' Up, up, Glentarkin ! rouse thee, ho ! 

We seek the chieftain ; on the track 30 

Keep eagle watch till I come back.' 

Ill 

Together up the pass they sped : 

' What of the foemen ? ' Norman said. — 

' Varying reports from near and far ; 

This certain, — that a band of war 35 

Has for two days been ready boune,^ 

At prompt command, to march from Doune ; 

King James, the while, with princely powers. 

Holds revelry in wStirling towers. 

Soon will this dark and gathering cloud 40 

Speak on our glens in thunder loud. 

Inured^ to bide^ such bitter bout,^ 

The warrior's plaid may bear it out ; 

1 Scouting expedition. 2 Prepared. ^ Trained. ^ Endure. 

5 Trial of strength. 



Canto IV 135 

But, Norman, how wilt thou provide 

A shelter for thy bonny bride ? ' — 45 

' What ! know ye not that Roderick's care 

To the lone isle hath caused repair 

Each maid and matron of the clan, 

And every child and aged man 

Unfit for arms ; and given his charge, 50 

Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge, 

Upon these lakes shall float at large, 

But all beside the islet moor, 

That such dear pledge may rest secure ? ' — 



' 'Tis well advised^ — the chieftain's plan 55 

Bespeaks the father of his clan. 

But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu 

Apart from all his followers true ? ' — 

' It is because last evening-tide 

Brian an augury hath tried, 60 

Of that dread kind which must not be 

Unless in dread extremity, — 

The Taghairm called ; by which, afar. 

Our sires foresaw the events of war. 

Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew." — 65 

MALISE 

* Ah ! well the gallant brute I knew ! 
The choicest of the prey we had, 

1 Planned. 



136 The Lady of the Lake 

When swept our merry-men Gallangad. 

His hide was snow, his horns were dark, 

His red eye glowed like fiery spark ; 70 

So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet, 

Sore did he cumber our retreat, 

And kept our stoutest kerns ^ in awe, 

Even at the pass of Beal 'maha. 

But steep and flinty was the road, 75 

And sharp the hurrying pikemen's goad, 

And when we came to Dennan's Row 

A child might scathless^ stroke his brow.' 



NORMAN 

' That bull was slain : his reeking hide 

They stretched the cataract beside, 80 

Whose waters their wild tumult toss 

Adown the black and craggy boss ^ 

Of that huge cliff whose ample verge * 

Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. 

Couched on a shelf beneath its brink, 85 

Close where the thundering torrents sink. 

Rocking beneath their headlong sway, 

And drizzled by the ceaseless spray. 

Midst groan of rock and roar of stream, 

The wizard waits prophetic dream. 90 

Nor distant rests the chief ; — but hush ! 

1 Light-armed soldiers. ^ Without harm, ^ Knob. 

* Broad edge. 



Canto IV 137 

See, gliding slow through mist and bush, 

The hermit gains yon rock, and stands 

To gaze upon our slumbering bands. 

Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost, 95 

That hovers o'er a slaughtered host? 

Or raven on the blasted oak, 

That, watching while the deer is broke,^ 

His morsel claims with sullen croak ? ' 

MALISE 

* Peace ! peace I to other than to me, 100 

Thy words were evil augury ; 

But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade 

Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid, 

Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or hell, 

Yon fiend-begotten monk can tell. 105 

The chieftain joins him, see — and now 

Together they descend the brow.' 

VI 

And, as they came, with Alpine's lord 
The hermit monk held solemn word : — 
' Roderick ! it is a fearful strife, no 

For man endowed with mortal life. 
Whose shroud of sentient clay can still 
Feel feverish pang and fainting chill, 
Whose eye can stare in stony trance. 
Whose hair can rouse " like warrior's lance, — 115 
^ Quartered. - Rise. 



ijB The Lady of the Lake 

'Tis hard for such to view, unfurled, 

The curtain of the future world. 

Yet, witness every quaking limb, 

My sunken pulse, mine eyeballs dim. 

My soul with harrowing anguish torn, 120 

This for my chieftain have I borne ! — 

The shapes that sought my fearful couch 

A human tongue may ne'er avouch ; ^ 

No mortal man — save he who, bred 

Between the living and the dead, 125 

Is gifted beyond nature's law — 

Had e'er survived to say he saw. 

At length the fateful answer came. 

In characters of living tiame ! 

Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll, 130 

But borne and branded on my soul : — 

Which spills the forp:most foeman's life. 

That party conquers in the strife.' — 

VII 

* Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care 1 

Good is thine augury,- and fair. 135 

Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood 

But first our broadswords tasted blood. 

A surer victim still I know, 

Self-offered to the auspicious blow : 

A spy has sought ni}- land this morn, — 140 

No eve shall witness his return ! 

1 Confess. '-^ Prophecy. 



Canto IV 139 

My followers guard each pass's mouth, 

To east, to westward, and to south, 

Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide, 

Has charge to lead his steps aside, 145 

Till, in deep path or dingle brown, 

He light on those shall bring him down. 

— But see who comes his news to show ! 

Malise ! what tidings of the foe ? ' — 



VIII 

' At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive^ 150 

Two barons proud their banners wave. 

I saw the Moray's silver star, 

And marked the sable pale- of Mar.' — 

' By Alpine's soul, high tidings those 1 

I love to hear of worthy foes, 155 

When move they on ? ' — ' To-morrow's noon 

Will see them here for battle boune.' — 

' Then shall it see a meeting stern ! — 

But, for the place — say, couldst thou learn 

Nought of the friendly clans of Earn ? 160 

Strengthened by them, we well might bide 

The battle on Benledi's side. 

Thou couldst not ? — well ! Clan-Alpine's men 

Shall man the Trosachs' shaggy glen ; 

Within Loch Katrine's gorge we'll fight, 165 

All in our maids' and matrons' sight, 

1 Broadsword. '^ Black stripe in a coat-of-arms. 



I40 The Lady of the Lake 

Each for his hearth and household fire, 

Father for child, and son for sire, 

Lover for maid beloved ! — But why — 

Is it the breeze affects mine eye ? 170 

Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear ! 

A messenger of doubt or fear ? 

No ! sooner may the Saxon lance 

Unfix Benledi from his stance,^ 

Than doubt or terror can pierce through 175 

The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu ! 

'Tis stubborn as his trusty targe. 

Each to his post ! — all know their charge.' 

The pibroch sounds, the bands advance. 

The broadswords gleam, the banners dance, 180 

Obedient to the chieftain's glance. 

— I turn me from the martial roar, 

And seek Coir-Uriskin once more. 

IX 

Where is the Douglas ? — he is gone; 
And Ellen sits on the grey stone 185 

Fast by the cave, and makes her moan ; 
While vainly Allan's words of cheer 
Are poured on her unheeding ear. — 
He will return — dear lady, trust ! — 
With joy return ; — he will — he must. 190 

Well was it time to seek afar 
Some refuge from impending war, 
1 Station. 



Canto IV 1 41 

When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm 

Are cowed by the approaching storm. 

I saw their boats, with many a light, 195 

Floating the livelong yesternight, 

Shifting like flashes darted forth 

By the red streamers of the north ; 

I marked at morn how close they ride, 

Thick moored by the lone islet's side, 200 

Like wild ducks couching in the fen, 

When stoops the hawk upon the glen. 

Since this rude race dare not abide 

The peril on the mainland side, 

Shall not thy noble father's care 205 

Some safe retreat for thee prepare ? ' — 



ELLEN 

' No, Allan, no ! Pretext so kind 

My wakeful terrors could not blind. 

When in such tender tone, yet grave, 

Douglas a parting blessing gave, 210 

The tear that glistened in his eye 

Drowned not his purpose fixed and high. 

My soul, though feminine and weak. 

Can image his; e'en as the lake, 

Itself disturbed by slightest stroke, 215 

Reflects the invulnerable rock. 

He hears report of battle rife, 

He deems himself the cause of strife. 



14^ The Lady of the Lake 

I saw him redden ^vhen the theme 

Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream 220 

Of Malcolm Gra;me in fetters bound, 

Which I, thou saidst, about him wound. 

Thitik'st thou he trowed^ thine omen aught? 

Oh no ! 'twas apprehensive thought 

For the kind youth, — for Roderick too — 225 

(Let me be just) that friend so true ; 

In danger both, and in our cause ! 

Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause. 

Why else that solemn warning given, — 

" If not on earth, we meet in heaven '' ? 230 

Why else, to Cambus-Kenneth's fane," 

If eve return him not again. 

Am I to hie, and make me known ? 

Alas ! he goes to Scotland's throne. 

Buys his friends' safety with his own ; 235 

He goes to do — what I had done, 

Had Douglas' daughter been his son 1 ' — 

XI 

* Nay, lovely Ellen ! — dearest, nay ! 
If aught should his return delay. 
He only named yon holy fane 240 

As fitting place to meet again. 
Be sure he's safe ; and for the Graeme, — 
Heaven's blessing on his gallant name 1 — 
My visioned sight may yet prove true, 
■^•Believed. •■••■- • • - ■■'^' Hhrme,- -ett-urch. -'• 



Canto IV 143 

Nor bode of ill to him or you. 245 

When did my gifted dream beguile ? 

Think of the stranger at the isle. 

And think upon the harpings slow 

That presaged this approaching woe ! 

Sooth ^ was my prophecy of fear 250 

Believe it when it augurs " cheer. 

Would we had left this dismal spot! 

Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot. 

Of such a wondrous tale I know — 

Dear lady, change that look of woe ; 255 

My harp was wont thy grief to cheer.' — 

EI-LEN 

' Well, be it as thou wilt ; I hear, 

But cannot stop the bursting tear.' 

The minstrel tried his simple art, 

But distant far was Ellen's heart. 260 

XII 

BALLAD 

Alice Brand 

Merry it is in the good greenwood, 

When the mavis '' and merle "^ are singing, 

When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry, 
And the hunter's horn is ringing. 

1 True. 2 Predicts. 3 Thrush. * Blackbird. 



144 The Lady of the Lake 

' " O Alice Brand, my native land 265 

Is lost for love of you ; 
And we must hold by wood and wold,^ 
As outlaws wont to do. 

' " O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright, 

And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue, 270 

That on the night of our luckless flight, 
Thy brother bold I slew. 

' " Now must I teach to hew the beech 
The hand that held the glaive. 
For leaves to spread our lowly bed, 275 

And stakes to fence our cave. 

* *' And for vest of pall," thy fingers small, 
That wont^ on harp to stray, 
A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer, 

To keep the cold away." — 280 

' " O Richard ! if my brother died, 
'Twas but a fatal chance ; 
For darkling "* was the battle tried, 
And fortune sped the lance. 

' " If pall and vair^ no more I wear, 285 

Nor thou the crimson sheen,*^ 
As warm, we'll say, is the russet grey, 
As gay the forest-green. 

1 Open country. - Fine cloth. ^ Are accustomed. 

^ In the dark. ^ Squirrel-fur. ^ Shining. 



Canto IV 14^; 

' " And, Richard, if our lot be hard, 

And lost thy native land, 290 

Still Alice has her own Richard, 
And he his Alice Brand." 

XIII 
BALLAD CONTINUED 

' 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, 
So blithe Lady Alice is singing ; 
On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, 295 

Lord Richard's ax is ringing. 

' Up spoke the moody elhn king, 

Who w'oned ^ within the hill, — 
Like wind in the porch of a ruined church. 

His voice was ghostly shrill. 300 

' " Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak. 

Our moonlight circle's screen ? 
Or who comes here to chase the deer, 

Beloved of our elfin queen ? 
Or who may dare on wold to wear 305 

The fairies' fatal green ! 

' ** Up, Urgan, up ! to yon mortal hie. 

For thou wert christened man ; 

For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, 

For muttered word or ban.- 310 

' Dwelt. - Curse. 

LADY OF THE LAKE — lO 



46 The Lady of the Lake 

' " Lay on him the curse of the withered heart, 
The curse of the sleepless eye ; 
Till he wish and pray that his life would part, 
Nor yet find leave to die." 



XIV 
BALLAD CONTINUED 

'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, 315 

Though the birds have stilled their singing; 

The evening blaze doth Alice raise, 
And Richard is fagots bringing. 

Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf. 

Before Lord Richard stands, 320 

And, as he crossed and blessed himself, 
" I fear not sign," quoth the grisly^ elf, 

" That is made with bloody hands." 

But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, 

That woman void of fear, — 325 

" And if there's blood upon his hand, 

'Tis but the blood of deer." — 

" Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood ! 

It cleaves unto his hand. 
The stain of thine own kindly- blood, 330 

The blood of Ethert Brand." 

1 Horrid. ^ Natural, kindred. 



Canto IV 147 

Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand, 

And made the holy sign, — 
" And if there's blood on Richard's hand, 

A spotless hand is mine. 335 

" And I conjure thee, demon elf, 

By Him whom demons fear, 
To show us whence thou art thyself, 

And what thine errand here ? " 



XV 

BALLAD CONTINUED 

' " 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairy-land, 340 

When fairy birds are singing, 
When the court doth ride by their monarch's side, 
With bit and bridle ringing : 

* " And gaily shines the Fairy-land — 

But all is glistening show, 345 

Like the idle gleam that December's beam 
Can dart on ice and snow. 

' " And fading, like that varied gleam, 

Is our inconstant shape, 
Who now like knight and lady seem, 350 

And now like dwarf and ape. 

' " It was between the night and day, 
W^hen the fairy king lias power, 



148 The Lady of the Lake 

That I sunk clown in a sinful fray, 
And 'twixt life and death was snatched away 355 

To the joyless elfin bower. 

^ " But wist I ^ of a woman bold, 
Who thrice uiy brow durst sign,^ 
I might regain my mortal mould,"'' 

As fair a form as thine." 360 

' She crossed him once — she crossed him twice — 
That lady was so brave ; 
The fouler grew his goblin hue. 
The darker grew the cave. 

' She crossed him thrice, that lady bold ; 365 

He rose beneath her hand 
The fairest knight on Scottish mould,'* 
Her brother, lithert Brand ! 

' Merry it is in good greenwood. 

When the mavis and merle are singing, 370 

But merrier were they in Dunfermline grey, 
When all the bells were ringing.' 

XVI 

Just as the minstrel sounds were staid, 

A stranger climbed the steepy glade ; 

His martial step, his stately mien, 375 

His hunting-suit of Lincoln green, 

1 If T knew. 2 Mark with the sign of the cross. 3 Shape. 

^ Ground. 



Canto IV 



149 



His eagle glance, remembrance claims — 

'Tis Snowdoun's knight, 'tis James Fitz-James. 

Ellen beheld as in a dream, 

Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream : 380 

' O stranger ! in such hour of fear, 

What evil hap has brought thee here ? ' — 

' An evil hap how can it be 

That bids me look again on thee ? 

By promise bound, my former guide 385 

Met me betimes this morning tide, 

And marshalled, over bank and bourne,^ 

The happy path of my return.' — 

'The happy path ! — what ! said he naught 

Of war, of battle to be fought, 390 

Of guarded pass ? ' — 'No, by my faith ! 

Nor saw I aught could augur scathe.'- — 

' O haste thee, Allan, to the kern, 

— Yonder his tartans I discern ; 

Learn thou his purpose, and conjure^ 395 

That he will guide the stranger sure ! — ■ 

What prompted thee, unhappy man ? 

The meanest serf in Roderick's clan 

Had not been bribed by love or fear, 

Unknown to him to guide thee here.' 400 

XVII 

' Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be, 
Since it is worthy care from thee ; 
^ Boundary. '^ Predict harm. ^ Solemnly entreat (him). 



150 The Lady of the Lake 

Yet life I hold but idle breath, 
When love or honour's weighed with death. 
Then let me profit by my chance, 405 

And speak my purpose bold at once. 
I come to bear thee from a wild 
Where ne'er before such blossom smiled ; 
By this soft hand to lead thee far 
From frantic scenes of feud and war. 410 

Near Bochastle my horses w^ait ; 
They bear us soon to Stirling gate. 
I'll place thee in a lovely bower, 
I'll guard thee like a tender flower ' — 
'O ! hush, Sir Knight ! 'twere female art,^ 415 
To say I do not read thy heart ; 
Too much, before, my selfish ear 
Was idly soothed my praise to hear. 
That fatal bait hath lured thee back, 
In deathf ul hour, o'er dangerous track ; 420 

And how, O how, can I atone 
The wreck my vanity brought on ! — 
One way remains — I'll tell him all — 
Yes ! struggling bosom, forth it shall ! 
Thou, whose light folly bears the blame 425 

Buy thine own pardon with thy shame ! 
But first — my father is a man 
Outlawed and exiled, under ban ; 
The price of blood is on his head, 
With me 'twere infamy to wed. — 430 

1 Deceit. 



Canto IV 



5 



Still wouldst thou speak ? — then hear the trulh ! 

Fitz-James, there is a noble youth, — 

If yet he is ! — exposed for me 

•And mine to dread extremity — 

Thou hast the secret of my heart ; 435 

Forgive, be generous, and depart ! ' 

XVIII 

Fitz-James knew every wily train ^ 
A lady's tickle heart to gain ; 
But here he knew and felt them vain. 
There shot no glance from Ellen's eye, 440 

To give her steadfast speech the lie; 
In maiden confidence she stood, 
Though mantled in her cheek the blood, 
And told her love with such a sigh 
Of deep and hopeless agony, 445 

As - death had sealed her Malcolm's doom, 
And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. 
Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye, 
But not with hope fled sympathy. 
He proffered to attend her side, 450 

As brother would a sister guide, — 
' O ! little know'st thou Roderick's heart ! 
Safer for both we go apart. 
O haste thee, and from Allan learn 
If thou mayst trust yon wily kern.' 455 

With hand upon his forehead laid, 
1 Allurement. - As if. 



152 The Lady of the Lake 

The conflict of his mind to shade, 

A parting step or two he made ; 

Then, as some thought had crossed his brain, 

He paused, and turned, and came again. 460 

XIX 

- Hear, lady, yet a parting word ! — 
It chanced in fight that my poor sword 
Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. 
This ring the grateful monarch gave, 
And bade, when I had boon^ to crave, 465 

To bring it back, and boldly claim 
The recompense that I would name. 
Ellen, I am no courtly lord. 
But one who lives by lance and sword, 
Whose castle is his helm and shield, 470 

His lordship- the embattled field. 
What from a prince can I demand. 
Who neither reck^ of state nor land ? 
Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thine ; 
Each guard and usher knows the sign. 475 

Seek thou the king without delay ; 
This signet shall secure thy way ; 
And claim thy suit, whate'er it be, 
As ransom of his pledge to me.' 
He placed the golden circlet on, 480 

Paused — kissed her hand — and then was gone. 
The aged minstrel stood aghast, 
1 Favour. - Dominion. ^ Care for. 



Canto IV 153 

So hastily Fitz-James shot past. 

He joined his guide, and winding down 

The ridges of the mountain brown, 485 

Across the stream they took their way, 

That joins Loch Katrine to Achray. 

XX 

All in the Trosachs' glen was still, 

Noontide was sleeping on the hill : 

Sudden his guide whooped loud and high — 490 

' Murdoch ! was that a signal cry ? ' — 

He stammered forth — ' I shout to scare 

Yon raven from his dainty fare/ 

He looked — he knew the raven's prey. 

His own brave steed : — ' Ah ! gallant grey ! 495 

For thee — for me, perchance — 'twere well 

We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell. — 

Murdoch, move first — but silently; 

Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die ! ' 

Jealous and sullen, on they fared,^ 500 

Each silent, each upon his guard. 

XXI 

Now wound the path its dizzy ledge 
Around a precipice's edge. 
When lo ! a wasted female form, 
Blighted by wrath of sun and storm, 505 

1 Went. 



54 The Lady of the Lake 

In tattered weeds ^ and wild array, 
Stood on a cliff beside the way, 
And glancing round her restless eye, 
. Upon the wood, the rock, the sky, 
Seemed nought to mark, yet all to spy. 510 

Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom ; 
With gesture wild she waved a plume 
Of feathers, which the eagles fling 
To crag and cliff from dusky wing ; 
Such spoils her desperate step had sought, 515 
Where scarce was footing for the goat. 
The tartan plaid she first descried, 
And shrieked till all the rocks replied ; 
As loud she laughed when near they drew. 
For then the Lowland garb she knew ; 320 

And then her hands she wildly wrung. 
And then she wept, and then she sung — 
She sung ! — the voice, in better time. 
Perchance to harp or lute might chime ; 
And now, though strained and roughened, still 
Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill. 526 

XXII 
SONG 

* They bid me sleep, they bid me pray, 

They say my brain is warped and wrung — 
I cannot sleep on Highland brae, 

I cannot pray in Highland tongue. 530 

1 Clothes. 



540 



Canto IV 155 

But were I now where Allan glides, 
Or heard my native Devan's tides, 
So sweetly would I rest, and pray 
That Heaven would close my wintry day ! 

'Twas thus my hair they bade me braid, 535 

They made me to the church repair ; 

It was my bridal morn, they said, 

And my true love would meet me there 

But woe betide the cruel guile, 

That drowned in blood the morning smile ! 

And woe betide the fairy dream ! 

I only waked to sob and scream,' 



XXIII 

*Who is this maid? what means her lay^ 

She hovers o'er the hollow way. 

And flutters wide her mantle grey, 545 

As the lone heron spreads his wing. 

By twilight, o'er a haunted spring.' — 

' 'Tis Blanche of Devan,' Murdoch said, 

' A crazed and captive Lowland maid, 

Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, 550 

When Roderick forayed Devan-side. 

The gay bridegroom resistance made, 

And felt our chief's unconquered blade. 

I marvel she is now at large, 

But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge. — 555 



156 The Lady of the Lake 

Hence, brain-sick fool! ' — He raised his bow : — 

' Now, if thou strikest her but one blow, 

I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far 

As ever peasant pitched a bar ! ' — 

' Thanks, champion, thanks ! ' the maniac cried, 560 

And pressed her to Fitz-James's side. 

' See the grey pennons I prepare. 

To seek my true-love through the air ! 

I will not lend that savage groom. 

To break his fall, one downy plume ! 565 

No! — deep amid disjointed stones, 

The wolves shall batten ^ on his bones, 

And then shall his detested plaid, 

By bush and brier in mid-air staid, 

Wave forth a banner fair and free, 570 

Meet signal for their revelry.' — 



XXIV 

' Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still ! ' — 

' O ! thou look'st kindly, and I will. — 

Mine eye has dried and wasted been. 

But still it loves the Lincoln green ; 575 

And, though mine ear is all unstrung, 

Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue. 

* For O my sweet William was forester true, 
He stole poor Blanche's heart away I 
1 Fatten. 



Canto IV 157 

His coat it was all of the greenwood hue, 580 

And so blithely he trilled the Lowland lay ! 

' It was not that I meant to tell ... 

But thou art wise, and guessest well.' 

Then, in a low and broken tone, 

And hurried note, the song went on. 585 

Still on the clansman fearfully 

She fixed her apprehensive eye ; 

Then turned it on the knight, and then 

Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen. 

XXV 

' The toils are pitched,^ and the stakes are set, 590 
Ever sing merrily, merrily ; 
The bows they bend and the knives they whet, 
Hunters live so cheerily. 

' It was a stag, a stag of ten. 

Bearing its branches sturdily ; 595 

He came stately down the glen. 
Ever sing hardily, hardily. 

* It was there he met with a wounded doe, 
She was bleeding deathfully ; 
She warned him of the toils below. 600 

O, so faithfully, faithfully ! 

1 Nets are set. 



15B The Lady of the Lake 

' He had an eye, and he could heed, 
Ever sing warily, warily ; 
He had a foot, and he could speed — 

Hunters watch so narrowly.' 605 

XXVI 

Fitz- James's mind was passion-tossed, 
When Ellen's hints and fears were lost ; 
But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, 
And Blanche's song conviction brought. — 
Not like a stag that spies the snare, 610 

But lion of the hunt aware. 
He waved at once his blade on high, 
' Disclose thy treachery, or die ! ' 
Forth at full speed the clansman flew 
But in his race his bow he drew. 615 

The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest, 
And thrilled ^ in Blanche's faded breast. — 
Murdoch of Alpine ! prove thy speed. 
For ne'er had Alpine's son such need! 
With heart of fire, and foot of wind, 620 

The fierce avenger is behind ! 
Fate judges of the rapid strife — 
The forfeit death — the prize is life ! 
Thy kindred ambush lies before, 
Close couched upon the heathery moor ; 625 

Them couldst thou reach ! — it. may not be — 
Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see, 
^ (.)uivered. 



Canto IV 159 

The tiery Saxon gains on thee ! 

— Resistless speeds the deadly thrust, 

As lightning strikes the pine to dust ; 63c 

With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain, 

Ere he can win his blade again. 

Bent o'er the fallen, with falcon eye, 

He grimly smiled to see him die ; 

Then slower wended back his way, 635 

Where the poor maiden bleeding lay. 

XXVII 

She sat beneath the birchen tree. 
Her elbow resting on her knee ; 
She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, 
And gazed on it. and feebly laughed ; 640 

Her wreath of broom and feathers grey, 
Daggled' with blood, beside her lay. 
The knight to staunch the life-stream tried, — 
' Stranger, it is in vain 1 ' she cried. 
' This hour of death has given me more 645 

Of reason's power than years before ; 
For, as these ebbing veins decay, 
My frenzied visions fade away. 
A helpless injured wretch I die, 
And something tells me in thine eye, 650 

That thou wert my avenger born. — 
Seest thou this tress ? — O ! still I've worn 
This little tress of yellow hair, 
1 Wet. 



i6o The Lady of the Lake 

Through danger, frenz}^, and despair ! 

It once was bright and clear as thine, 655 

But blood and tears have dimmed its shine. 

I will not tell thee when 'twas shred, ^ 

Nor from what guiltless victim's head — 

My brain would turn ! — but it shall wave 

Like plumage on thy helmet brave, 660 

Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain, 

And thou wait bring it me again. — 

I waver still. — O God ! more bright 

Let reason beam her parting light ! — 

O ! by thy knighthood's honoured sign, 665 

And for thy life preserved by mine. 

When thou shalt see a darksome man, 

Who boasts him chief of Alpine's clan, 

With tartans broad, and shadowy plume, 

And hand of blood, and brow^ of gloom, 6;o 

Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong, 

And wreak- poor Blanche of Devan's wTong ! 

They watch for thee by pass and fell . . . 

Avoid the path . . . O God ! . . . farewell' 

XXVIII 

A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James; 675 

Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims ; 
And now^ with mingled grief and ire. 
He saw the murdered maid expire. 
' God, in my need, be my relief, 

1 Cut. - Avenge. 



Canto IV i6i 

As I wreak this on yonder chief ! ' 680 

A lock from Blanche's tresses fair 
He blended with her bridegroom's hair ; 
The mingled braid in blood he dyed, 
And placed it on his bonnet-side : 
' By Him whose word is truth, I swear, 685 

No other favour ' will I wear, 
Till this sad token I imbrue - 
In the best blood of Roderick Dhu. 
— But hark! what means yon faint halloo? 
The chase is up, — but they shall know 690 

The stag at bay's a dangerous foe.' 
Barred from the known but guarded way, 
Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray, 
And oft must change his desperate track, 
By stream and precipice turned back. 695 

Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length, 
From lack of food and loss of strength, 
He couched him "' in a thicket hoar. 
And thought his toils and perils o'er: — 
' Of all my rash adventurous past, 700 

This frantic feat must prove the last ! 
Who e'er so mad but might have guess'd, 
That all this Highland hornet's nest 
Would muster up in swarms so soon 
As e'er they heard of bands at Doune ? 705 

Like bloodhounds now they search me out, — 
Hark, to the whistle and the shout ! — 
Token from a lady. ^ goak, ^ Lay down. 

LADY OF THE LAKE — 1 1 



i62 The Lady of the Lake 

If farther through the wilds I go, 

I only fall upon the foe : 

I'll couch me here till evening grey, 710 

Then darkling try my dangerous way.' 

XXIX 

The shades of eve come slowly down, 

The woods are wrapt in deeper brown, 

The owl awakens from her dell, 

The fox is heard upon the fell ; 715 

Enough remains of glimmering light 

To guide the wanderer's steps aright. 

Yet not enough from far to show 

His figure to the watchful foe. 

With cautious step, and ear awake, 720 

He climbs the crag and threads the brake ; 

And not the summer solstice there 

Tempered the midnight mountain air, 

But every breeze that swept the wold 

Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold. 725 

In dread, in danger, and alone, 

Famished and chilled, through ways unknown. 

Tangled and steep, he journeyed on ; 

Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, 

A watch-fire close before him burned. 730 

XXX 

Beside its embers red and clear, 
Basked, in his plaid, a mountaineer; 



Canto IV 163 

And up he sprung with sword in hand, — 
' Thy name and purpose ? Saxon, stand ! ' — 
' A stranger,' — ' What dost thou require ? ' — 735 
' Rest and a guide, and food and tire. 
My Hfe's beset, my path is lost, 
The gale has chilled my limbs with frost.' — 
' Art thou a friend to Roderick ? ' — ' No.' — 
' Thou darest not call thyself a foe ? ' — 740 

' I dare ! to him and all the band 
He brings to aid his murderous hand.' — - 
* Bold words ! — but, though the beast of game 
The privilege of chase may claim, 
Though space and law the stag we lend, 745 

Ere hound we slip,^ or bow we bend, 
Who ever recked where, how, or when, 
The prowling fox was trapped or slain ? 
Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they lie. 
Who say thou earnest a secret spy ! ' — 750 

' They do, by heaven ! — Come Roderick Dhu, 
And of his clan the boldest two, 
And let me but till morning rest, 
I write the falsehood on their crest.' — 
' If by the blaze I mark aright, 755 

Thou bear'st the belt and spur of knight.' — 
' Then by these tokens mayest thou know 
Each proud oppressor's mortal foe.' — 
' Enough, enough ; — sit down, and share 
A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare.' 760 

1 I>et loose. 



164 The Lady of the Lake 



XXXI 

He gave him of his Highland cheer, 

The hardened flesh of mountain deer ; 

Dry fuel on the fire he laid, 

And bade the Saxon share his plaid. 

He tended him like welcome guest, 765 

Then thus his further speech addressed : — 

' Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu 

A clansman born, a kinsman true ; 

Each word against his honour spoke 

Demands of me avenging stroke ; 770 

Yet more, upon thy fate, 'tis said, 

A mighty augury is laid. 

It rests with me to wind my horn, — 

Thou art with numbers overborne ; 

It rests with me, here, brand to brand, 775 

Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand : 

But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause, 

Will I depart from honour's laws ; 

To assail a wearied man were shame. 

And stranger is a holy name ; 780 

Guidance and rest, and food and fire, 

In vain he never must require. 

Then rest thee here till dawn of day ; 

Myself will guide thee on the way, 

O'er stock ^ and stone, through watch and ward. 

Till past Clan- Alpine's utmost guard, 7S6 

1 Stump. 



Canto IV 165 

As far as Coilantogle's ford ; 

From thence thy warrant is thy sword.' — 

' I take thy courtesy, by heaven, 

As freely as 'tis nobly given ! ' — 790 

' Well, rest thee ; for the bittern's cry 

Sings us the lake's wild lullaby.' 

With that he shook the gathered heath, 

And spread his plaid upon the wreath ; 

And the brave foemen, side by side, 795 

Lay peaceful down, like brothers tried. 

And slept until the dawning beam 

Purpled the mountain and the stream. 



CANTO FIFTH 
The Combat 



Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light, 

When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied, 
It smiles upon the dreary brow of night, 

And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide, 
And lights the fearful path on mountain side ; — 5 

Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, 
Giving to horror grace, to danger pride, 

Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star. 
Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of 
War. 



That early beam, so fair and sheen, 
Was twinkling through the hazel screen, 
When, rousing at its glimmer red, 
The warriors left their lowly bed. 
Looked out upon the dappled sky, 
Muttered their soldier matins by, 
And then awaked their fire, to steal. 
As short and rude, their soldier meal. 
That o'er, the Gael around him threw 
His graceful plaid of varied hue, 
166 



Canto V 167 

And, true to promise, led the way, 20 

By thicket green and mountain grey. 

A wildering path ! — they winded now 

Along the precipice's brow, 

Commanding the rich scenes beneath, 

The windings of the Forth and Teith, 25 

And all the vales between that lie. 

Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky ; 

Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance 

Gained not the length of horseman's lance. 

'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fain 30 

Assistance from the hand to gain ; 

So tangled oft, that, bursting through, 

Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew, — 

That diamond dew, so pure and clear, 

It rivals all but Beauty's tear ! 35 



III 

At length they came where, stern and steep. 

The hill sinks down upon the deep. 

Here Vennachar in silver flows, 

There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose ; 

Ever the hollow path twined on, 40 

Beneath steep bank and threatening stone ; 

An hundred men might hold the post 

With hardihood against a host. 

The rugged mountain's scanty cloak 

Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak, 45 



1 68 The Lady of the Lake 

With shingles ^ bare, and cHffs between, 

And patches bright of bracken green, 

And heather black, that waved so high. 

It held the copse in rivalry. 

But where the lake slept deep and still, 50 

Dank osiers '' fringed the swamp and hill ; 

And oft both path and hill were torn. 

Where wintry torrent down had borne, 

And heaped upon the cumbered land 

Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. 55 

So toilsome was the road to trace. 

The guide, abating of his pace. 

Led slowly through the pass's jaws, 

And asked Fitz-James, by what strange cause 

He sought these wilds, traversed by few, 60 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. 

IV 

' Brave Gael, my pass in danger tried. 

Hangs in my belt, and by my side ; 

Yet, sooth to tell,' the Saxon said, 

' I dreamt not now to claim its aid. 65 

When here, but three days since, I came, 

Bewildered in pursuit of game, 

All seemed as peaceful and as still 

As the mist slumbering on yon hill ; 

Thy dangerous chief was then afar, 7c 

Nor soon expected back from war. 

1 Gravelly places. 2 Willows. 



Canto V 169 

Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide, 

Though deep, perchance, the villain lied.' — 

' Yet why a second venture tr);^ ? ' — 

' A warrior thou, and ask me why ! — 75 

Moves our free course by such fixed cause 

As gives the poor mechanic laws ? 

Enough, I sought to drive away 

The lazy hours of peaceful day ; 

Slight cause will then suffice to guide 80 

A knight's free footsteps far and wide, — 

A falcon flown, a greyhound strayed. 

The merry glance of mountain maid : 

Or, if a path be dangerous known. 

The danger's self is lure alone.' — 85 



' Thy secret keep, I urge thee not ; — 

Yet, ere again ye sought this spot, 

Say, heard ye nought of Lowland war, 

Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar ? ' 

— ' No, by my word ; — of bands prepared 90 

To guard King James's sports I heard ; 

Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear 

This muster of the mountaineer. 

Their pennons will abroad be flung, 

Which else in Doune had peaceful hung.' — 95 

' Free be they flung ! — for we were loath 

Their silken folds should feast the moth. 



lyo The Lady of the Lake 

Free be they fiung ! — as free shall wave 
Clan-Alpine's Pine in banner brave. 
But, stranger, peaceful since you came. 
Bewildered in the mountain game, 
Whence the bold boast by which you show 
Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe ? ' — 
' Warrior, but yester-morn I knew 
Naught of thy chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 
Save as an outlawed desperate man, 
The chief of a rebellious clan, 
Who, in the Regent-'s court and sight, 
With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight : 
Yet this alone might from his part 
Sever each true and loyal heart.' 



VI 

Wrothful at such arraignment foul. 
Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl. 
A space he paused, then sternly said, 
' And heardst thou why he drew his blade ? 
Heardst thou that shameful word and blow 
Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe ? 
What recked the chieftain if he stood 
On Highland heath or Holy-Rood ? 
He rights such wrong where it is given, 
If it were in the court of heaven.' — 
' Still was it outrage ; — yet, 'tis true. 
Not then claimed sovereignty his due ; 



Canto V 171 

While Albany, with feeble hand, 
Held borrowed truncheon ^ of command, 125 

The young king, mewed - in Stirling tower, 
Was stranger to respect and power. 
But then, thy chieftain's robber life ! — 
Winning mean prey by causeless strife, 
Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain 130 

His herds and harvest reared in vain. — 
Methinks a soul like thine should scorn 
The spoils from such foul foray borne.' 



VII 

The Gael beheld him grim the while. 
And answered wath disdainful smile, — 135 

' Saxon, from yonder mountain high, 
I marked thee send delighted eye. 
Far to the south and east, where lay, 
Extended in succession gay, 
Deep waving fields and pastures green, 140 

With gentle slopes and groves between : — 
These fertile plains, that softened vale. 
Were once the birthright of the Gael ; 
The stranger came with iron hand, 
And from our fathers reft the land. 145 

Where dwell we now ? See, rudely swell 
Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. 
Ask we this savage hill we tread 
1 Mace (symbol of authority). 2 ghut up. 



172 The Lady of the Lake 

For fattened steer or household bread ; 

Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, 150 

And well the mountain might reply, — 

" To you, as to your sires of yore, 

Belong the target ^ and claymore ! 

I give you shelter in my breast. 

Your own good blades must win the rest." 155 

Pent in this fortress of the North, 

Think'st thou we will not sally forth. 

To spoil the spoiler as we may, 

And from the robber rend the prey ? 

Ay, by my soul ! — While on yon plain 160 

The Saxon rears '■ one shock of grain ; 

While of ten thousand herds there strays 

But one along yon river's maze, — 

The Gael, of plain and river heir. 

Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share. ic-^s 

Where live the mountain chiefs who hold, 

That plundering Lowland field and fold 

Is aught but retribution true ? 

Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu.' — 

VIII 

Answered Fitz-James, — 'And, if I sought, 170 
Think'st thou no other could be brought ? 
What deem ye of my path waylaid ? 
My life given o'er to ambuscade ? ' — 

1 Round shield. - Raises. 



Canto V 



173 



' As of a meed ^ to rashness due : 

Hadst thou sent warning fair and true, — 175 

I seek my hound, or falcon staid, 

I seek, good faith, a Highland maid, — 

Free hadst thou been to come and go ; 

But secret path marks secret foe. 

Nor yet, for this, even as a spy, 180 

Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed to die, 

Save to fulfil an augury.' — 

' Well, let it pass ; nor will I now 

Fresh cause of enmity avow, 

To chafe my mood and cloud thy brow. 185 

Enough, I am by promise tied 

To match me with this man of pride : 

Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen 

In peace ; but when I come again, 

I come with banner, brand, and bow, igo 

As leader seeks his mortal foe. 

For love-lorn swain in lady's bower 

Ne'er panted for the appointed hour, 

As I, until before me stand 

This rebel chieftain and his band 1 ' — 195 



IX 

* Have then thy wish ! ' — He whistled shrill, 
And he was answered from the hill ; 
Wild as the scream of the curlew, 

1 Reward. 



174 The Lady of the Lake 

From crag to crag the signal flew. 

Instant, through copse and heath, arose 

Bonnets and spears and bended bows ; 

On right, on left, above, below. 

Sprung up at once the lurking foe ; 

From shingles grey their lances start. 

The bracken bush sends forth the dart, 

The rushes and the willow-wand 

Are bristling into ax and brand, 

And every tuft of broom gives life 

To plaided warrior armed for strife. 

That whistle garrisoned the glen 

At once with full five hundred men, . 

As if the yawning hill to heaven 

A subterranean host had given. 

Watching their leader's beck and will, 

All silent there they stood, and still. 

Like the loose crags, whose threatening mass 

Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass. 

As if an infant's touch could urge 

Their headlong passage down the verge, 

With step and weapon forw^ard flung, 

Upon the mountain-side they hung. 

The mountaineer cast glance of pride 

Along Benledi's living side. 

Then fixed his eye and sable brow 

Full on Fitz-James — ' How say'st thou now? 

These are Clan- Alpine's warriors true ; 

And, Saxon, — I am Roderick Dhu ! ' 



Canto V 175 



Fitz-James was brave : — though to his heart 

The life-blood thrilled with sudden start, 

He manned himself with dauntless air, 230 

Returned the chief his haughty stare, 

His back against a rock he bore, 

And firmly placed his foot before : — 

' Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly 

From its firm base as soon as I.' 235 

Sir Roderick marked — and in his eyes 

Respect was mingled with surprise, 

And the stern joy which warriors feel 

In foeman worthy of their steel. 

Short space he stood — then waved his hand : 240 

Down sunk the disappearing band ; 

Each warrior vanished where he stood, 

In broom or bracken, heath or wood ; 

Sunk brand and spear and bended bow, 

In osiers pale and copses low ; 245 

It seemed as if their mother Earth 

Had swallowed up her warlike birth. 

The wind's last breath had tossed in air 

Pennon and plaid and plumage fair, — 

The next but swept a lone hill-side, 250 

Where heath and fern were waving wide : 

The sun's last glance was glinted^ back 

From spear and glaive, from targe and jack,- — 

1 Flashed. ^ Horseman's jacket. 



76 The Lady of the Lake 

The next, all unreflected, shone 

On bracken green, and cold grey stone. 255 

XI 

Fitz-James looked round — yet scarce believed 
The witness that his sight received ; 
Such apparition well might seem 
Delusion of a dreadful dream. 
Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, 260 

And to his look the chief replied: 
' Fear naught — nay, that I need not say — 
But — doubt not aught from mine array. 
Thou art my guest ; — I pledged my word 
As far as Coilantogle ford : 265 

Nor would I call a clansman's brand 
For aid against one valiant hand. 
Though on our strife lay ^ every vale 
Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. 
So move we on ; — I only meant 270 

To show the reed on which you leant, 
Deeming this path you might pursue 
Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.' 
They moved : — I said Fitz-James was brave 
As ever knight that belted glaive ; 275 

Yet dare not say that now his blood 
Kept on its wont " and tempered flood, 
As, following Roderick's stride, he drew 
That seeming lonesome pathway through, 
1 Depended. '^ Usual. 



Canto V 177 

Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife 280 

With lances, that, to take his life, 

Waited but signal from a guide 

So late dishonour'd and defied. 

Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round 

The vanished guardians of the ground, 285 

And still, from copse and heather deep, 

Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep, 

And in the plover's shrilly strain 

The signaWhistle heard again. 

Nor breathed he free till far behind 290 

The pass was left ; for then they wind 

Along a wide and level green. 

Where neither tree nor tuft was seen, 

Nor rush nor bush of broom was near, 

To hide a bonnet or a spear. 295 

XII 

The chief in silence strode before, 

And reached that torrent's sounding shore. 

Which, daughter of three mighty lakes, 

From Vennachar in silver breaks, 

Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines 300 

On Bochastle the mouldering lines, 

Where Rome, the empress of the world, 

Of yore her eagle wings unfurled. 

And here his course the chieftain staid, 

Threw^ down his target and his plaid, 305 

And tc the Lowland warrior said — 

LADY OF THE LAKE — 12 



178 The Lady of the Lake 

' Bold Saxon ! to his promise just, 

Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. 

This murderous chief, this ruthless man, 

This head of a rebellious clan, 310 

Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward, 

Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 

Now, man to man, and steel to steel, 

A chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. 

See, here all vantageless ^ I stand, 315 

Armed, like thyself, with single brand : 

For this is Coilantogle ford. 

And thou must keep thee with thy sword.' 

XIII 

The Saxon paused : — 'I ne'er delayed. 
When foeman bade me draw my blade ; 320 

Nay, more, brave chief, I vowed thy death : 
Yet sure thy fair and generous faith. 
And my deep debt for life preserved, 
A better meed have well deserved : 
Can naught but blood our feud atone ? 325 

Are there no means ? ' — ' No, stranger, none ! 
And hear, — to fire thy flagging zeal, — 
The Saxon cause rests on thy steel ; 
For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred 
Between the living and the dead : 330 

" Who spills the foremost foeman's life. 
His party conquers in the strife." ' — 
1 Without advantage. 



I 



Canto V 



179 



' Then, by my word,' the Saxon said, 

' The riddle is already read. 

Seek yonder brake beneath the diff, — 335 

There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff. 

Thus Fate has solved her prophecy ; 

Then yield to Fate, and not to me. 

To James, at Stirling, let us go. 

When, if thou wilt be still his foe, 340 

Or if the king shall not agree 

To grant thee grace and favour free, 

I plight mine honour, oath, and word, 

That, to thy native strengths ^ restored. 

With each advantage shalt thou stand, 345 

That aids thee now to guard thy land.' 

XIV 

Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye — 
* Soars thy presumption, then, so high, 
Because a wretched kern ye slew, 
Homage to name to Roderick Dhu ? 350 

He yields not, he, to man nor Fate 1 
Thou add'st but fuel to my hate : — 
My clansman's blood demands revenge. 
Not yet prepared ? — By Heaven, I change 
My thought, and hold thy valour light 355 

As that of some vain carpet knight. 
Who ill deserved my courteous care. 
And whose best boast is but to wear 
1 Forces. 



i8o The Lady of the Lake 

A braid of his fair lady's hair.' — 

' I thank thee, Roderick, for the word ! 360 

It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; 

For I have sworn this braid to stain 

In the best blood that warms thy vein. 

Now, truce, farewell ! and, ruth,^ begone ! — 

Yet think not that by thee alone, 365 

Proud chief ! can courtesy be shown ; 

Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn ,^ 

Start at my whistle clansmen stern, 

Of this small horn one feeble blast 

Would fearful odds against thee cast. 370 

But fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt — 

We try this quarrel hilt to hilt.' — 

Then each at once his falchion drew, 

Each on the ground his scabbard threw, 

Each looked to sun, and stream, and plain, 375 

As what they ne'er might see again ; 

Then, foot and point and eye opposed, 

In dubious strife they darkly closed. 

XV 

111 fared it then with Roderick Dhu, 
That on the field his targe he threw, 380 

Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 
Had death so often dashed aside ; 
For, trained abroad his arms to wield, 
1 Pity. 2 Heap of stones. 



Canto V i8i 

Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. 

He practised every pass and ward/ 385 

To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ; 

While less expert, though stronger far, 

The Gael maintained unequal war. 

Three times in closing strife they stood, 

And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood ; 390 

No stinted draught, no scanty tide. 

The gushing flood the tartans dyed. 

Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain, 

And showered his blows like wintry rain ; 

And, as firm rock or castle-roof 395 

Against the winter shower is proof. 

The foe, invulnerable still, 

Foiled his wild rage by steady skill ; 

Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand 

Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, 400 

And backward borne upon the lea, 

Brought the proud chieftain to his knee. 

XVI 

' Now, yield thee, or by Him who made 
The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade ! ' — 
' Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy ! 405 

Let recreant yield, who fears to die.' 
— Like adder darting from his coil, 
Like wolf that dashes through the toil, 
^ Attack and defence. 



1 82 The Lady of the Lake 

Like mountain-cat who guards her young, 
Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung ; 410 

Received, but recked not of a wound. 
And locked his arms his foeman round. — 
Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own ! 
No maiden's hand is round thee thrown ! 
That desperate grasp thy frame might feel 415 

Through bars of brass and triple steel ! — 
They tug, they strain ! down, down they go, 
The Gael above, Fitz- James below. 
The chieftain's gripe his throat compressed. 
His knee was planted in his breast ; 420 

His clotted locks he backward threw. 
Across his brow his hand he drew, 
From blood and mist to clear his sight, 
Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright ! — 
— But hate and fury ill supplied 425 

The stream of life's exhausted tide. 
And all too late the advantage came. 
To turn the odds of deadly game ; 
For, w'hile the dagger gleamed on high. 
Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye. 430 
Dowai came the blow ! but in the heath 
The erring blade found bloodless sheath. 
The struggling foe may now^ unclasp 
The fainting chief's relaxing grasp ; 
Unwounded from the dreadful close,^ 435 

But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 
1 Encounter. 



Canto V i8j 



XVII 

He faltered thanks to Heaven for life, 

Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife ; 

Next on his foe his look he cast. 

Whose every gasp appeared his last ; 440 

In Roderick's gore he dipt the braid, — 

' Poor Blanche ! thy wrongs are dearly paid : 

Yet with thy foe must die, or live, 

The praise that faith and valour give.' 

With that he blew a bugle-note, 445 

Undid the collar from his throat, 

Unbonneted, and by the wave 

Sat down his brow and hands to lave. 

Then faint afar are heard the feet 

Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet ; 450 

The sounds increase, and now are seen 

Four mounted squires in Lincoln green ; 

Two who bear lance, and two who lead 

By loosened rein a saddled steed ; 

Each onward held his headlong course, 455 

And by Fitz-James reined up his horse ; 

With wonder viewed the bloody spot — 

— ' Exclaim not, gallants ! question not. — 

You, Herbert and Luffness, alight. 

And bind the wounds of yonder knight ; 460 

Let the grey palfrey bear his weight, 

We destined for a fairer freight. 

And bring him on to Stirling straight ; 



184 The Lady of the Lake 

I will before at better speed, 

To seek fresh horse and fitting weed.^ 465 

The sun rides high ; — I must be boune, 

To see the archer-game at noon ; 

But lightly Bayard clears the lea. — 

De Vaux and Herries, follow me. 

XVIII 

' Stand, Bayard, stand ! ' — the steed obeyed, 470 

With arching neck and bended head. 

And glancing eye and quivering ear, 

As if he loved his lord to hear. 

No foot Fitz-James in stirrup staid. 

No grasp upon the saddle laid, 475 

But wreathed his left hand in the mane, 

And lightly bounded from the plain. 

Turned on the horse his armed heel. 

And stirred his courage with the steel. 

Bounded the fiery steed in air, 480 

The rider sat erect and fair. 

Then like a bolt from steel crossbow 

Forth launched, along the plain they go. 

They dashed that rapid torrent through. 

And up Carhonie's hill they flew ; 485 

Still at the gallop pricked - the knight, 

His merry-men followed as they might. 

Along thy banks, swift Teith ! they ride, 

And in the race they mock thy tide ; 

1 Clothing. - Spurred on. 



Canto V 185 

Torry and Lendrick now are past, 490 

And Deanstown lies behind them cast ; 

They rise, the bannered towers of Doune, 

They sink in distant woodland soon ; 

Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire, 

They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre; 495 

They mark just glance and disappear 

The lofty brow of ancient Kier ; 

They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides, 

Dark Forth ! amid thy sluggish tides, 

And on the opposing shore take ground, 500 

With plash, with scramble, and with bound. 

Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig- Forth ! 

And soon the bulwark of the North, 

Grey Stirling, with her towers and town, 

Upon their fleet career looked down. 505 

XIX 

As up the flinty path they strained. 

Sudden his steed the leader reined ; 

A signal to his squire he flung, 

Who instant to his stirrup sprung: — 

' Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman grey, 510 

Who townward holds the rocky way. 

Of stature tall and poor array ? 

Mark'st thou the firm, yet active stride, 

With which he scales the mountain-side ? 

Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom ? ' 515 

' No, by my word ; — a burly groom 



1 86 The Lady of the Lake 

He seems, who in the field or chase 

A baron's train would nobly grace.' — 

' Out, out, De Vaux ! can fear supply. 

And jealousy, no sharper eye ? 520 

Afar, ere to the hill he drew. 

That stately form and step I knew ; 

Like form in Scotland is not seen. 

Treads not such step on Scottish green. 

'Tis James of Douglas, by Saint Serle ! 525 

The uncle of the banished Earl. 

Away, away, to court, to show 

The near approach of dreaded foe : 

The king must stand upon his guard ; 

Douglas and he must meet prepared.' 530 

Then right-hand wheeled their steeds, and straight 

They won the castle's postern gate.^ 

XX 

The Douglas, who had bent his way 
From Cambus-Kenneth's abbey grey. 
Now, as he climbed the rocky shelf, 535 

Held sad communion with himself : — 
' Yes ! all is true my fears could frame ; 
A prisoner lies the noble Graeme, 
And fiery Roderick soon will feel 
The vengeance of the royal steel. 540 

I, only I, can ward their fate, — 
God grant the ransom come not late ! 
1 Back, or private, gate. 



Canto V 187 

The abbess hath her promise given, 

My child shall be the bride of Heaven ; — 

— Be pardoned one repining tear ! 545 
For He who gave her knows how dear, 

How excellent ! but that is by,^ 
And now my business is — to die. 

— Ye towers ! within whose circuit dread 

A Douglas by his sovereign bled ; 550 

And thou, O sad and fatal mound ! 

That oft hast heard the death-ax sound, 

As on the noblest of the land 

Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand, — 

The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb 555 

Prepare — for Douglas seeks his doom 1 

— But hark ! what blithe and jolly peal 
Makes the Franciscan steeple reel ? 
And see ! upon the crowded street, 

In motley groups what maskers meet 1 560 

Banner and pageant, pipe and drum. 
And merry morrice-dancers come. 
I guess, by all this quaint array, 
The burghers " hold their sports to-day. 
James will be there ; he loves such show, 565 
Where the good yeoman bends his bow, 
And the tough wrestler foils his foe, 
As well as where, in proud career. 
The high-born tilter ^ shivers spear. 
I'll follow to the castle-park, 570 

1 Past. - Citizens. ^ Contestant in a tournament. 



1 88 The Lady of the Lake 

And play my prize ; — King James shall mark 
If age has tamed these sinews stark, 
Whose force so oft, in happier days, 
His boyish wonder loved to praise.' 

XXI 

The castle gates were open flung, -^y^ 

The quivering drawbridge rocked and rung. 
And echoed loud the flinty street 
Beneath the coursers' clattering feet, 
As slowly down the steep descent 
Fair Scotland's king and nobles went, 5S0 

While all along the crowded way 
Was jubilee and loud huzza. 
And ever James was bending low^ 
To his white jennet's ' saddle-bow. 
Doffing his cap to city dame, 585 

Who smiled and blushed for pride and shame. 
And well the simperer might be vain, — 
He chose the fairest of the train. 
Gravely he greets each city sire. 
Commends each pageant's quaint attire, 500 

Gives to the dancers thanks aloud. 
And smiles and nods upon the crowd, 
Who rend the heavens with their acclaims — 
' Long live the Commons' king. King James!' 
Behind the king thronged peer and knight, 595 
And noble dame, and damsel bright, 
^ Spanish horse. 



Canto V 1 89 

Whose fiery steeds ill brooked the stay 

Of the steep street and crowded way. 

— But in the train 3/ou might discern 

Dark lowering brow, and visage stern : 600 

There nobles mourned their pride restrained, 

And the mean burgher's joys disdained ; 

And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan. 

Were each from home a banished man, 

There thought upon their own grey tower, 605 

Their waving woods, their feudal power. 

And deemed themselves a shameful part 

Of pageant which they cursed in heart. 

XXII 

Now, in the castle-park, drew out 
Their chequered bands the joyous rout. 610 

Their morricers, with bell at heel 
And blade in hand, their mazes wheel ; 
But chief, beside the butts,^ there stand 
Bold Robin Hood and all his band, — 
Friar Tuck with quarterstaff - and cowl, 615 

Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl. 
Maid Marian, fair as ivory bone. 
Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John ; 
Their bugles challenge all that will. 
In archery to prove their skill. 620 

The Douglas bent a bow of might, — 
His first shaft centred in the white, 
1 Marks to shoot at. ^ Pole, 



190 The Lady of the Lake 

And when in turn he shot again, 

His second spHt the first in twain. 

From the king's hand must Douglas take 625 

A silver dart, the archer's stake ^ ; 

Fondly he watched, with w^atery eye, 

Some answering glance of sympathy, — 

No kind emotion made reply! 

Indifferent as to archer wight,^ 630 

The monarch gave the arrow bright. 

XXIII 

Now, clear the ring ! for, hand to hand, 
The manly wrestlers take their stand. 
Two o'er the rest superior rose, 
And proud demanded mightier foes, 635 

Nor called in vain ; for Douglas came. 
— For life is Hugh of Larbert lame ; 
Scarce better John of Alloa's fare. 
Whom senseless home his comrades bear. 
Prize of the wrestling match, the king 640 

To Douglas gave a golden ring, 
While coldly glanced his eye of blue. 
As frozen drop of wintry dew. 
Douglas would speak, but in his breast 
His struggling soul his words suppressed ; 645 
Indignant then he turned him where 
Their arms the brawny yeomen bare, 
1 Prize. 2 /.^.j- an ordinary archer. 



Canto V 191 

To hurl the massive bar in air. 

When each his utmost strength had shown, 

The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone 650 

From its deep bed, then heaved it high, 

And sent the fragment through the sky, 

A rood beyond the farthest mark ; — 

And still in Stirling's royal park, 

The grey-haired sires, who know the past, 655 

To strangers point the Douglas cast, 

And moralize on the decay 

Of Scottish strength in modern day. 

XXIV 

The vale with loud applauses rang, 

The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang. 660 

The king, with look unmoved, bestowed 

A purse well filled with pieces broad, 

Indignant smiled the Douglas proud. 

And threw the gold among the crowd. 

Who now with anxious wonder scan, 665 

And sharper glance, the dark grey man ; 

Till whispers rose among the throng, 

That heart so free, and hand so strong. 

Must to the Douglas blood belong. 

The old men marked, and shook the head, 670 

To see his hair with silver spread, 

And winked aside, and told each son 

Of feats upon the English done, 



192 The Lady of the Lake 

Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand 

Was exiled from his native land. 675 

The women praised his stately form, 

Though wrecked by many a winter's storm ; 

The youth with awe and wonder saw 

His strength surpassing nature's law\ 

Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd, 680 

Till murmur rose to clamours loud. 

But not a glance from that proud ring 

Of peers who circled round the king 

With Douglas held communion kind, 

Or called the banished man to mind ; 685 

No, not from those who, at the chase, 

Once held his side the honoured place. 

Begirt his board, and in the field 

Found safety underneath his shield ; 

For he whom royal eyes disown, 690 

When was his form to courtiers knowai ! 



XXV 

The monarch saw the gambols flag. 

And bade let loose a gallant stag. 

Whose pride, the holiday to crown. 

Two favourite greyhounds should pull down, 695 

That venison free, and Bourdeaux wine. 

Might serve the archery ^ to dine. 

But Lufra, — whom from Douglas' side 

^ Company of archers. 



Canto V 



^93 



7CO 



705 



Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide, 

The fleetest hound in all the North, — 

Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. 

She left the royal hounds mid-way, 

And dashing on the antlered prey, 

Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank, 

And deep the flov/ing life-blood drank. 

The king's stout huntsman saw the sport 

By strange intruder broken short. 

Came up, and with his leash unbound, 

In anger struck the noble hound. 

— The Douglas had endured, that morn, 710 

The king's cold look, the nobles' scorn, 

And last, and worst to spirit proud. 

Had borne the pity of the crowd ; 

But Lufra had been fondly bred, 

To share his board, to watch his bed, 713 

And oft would Ellen Lufra's neck 

In maiden glee with garlands deck ; 

They were such playmates, that with name 

Of Lufra Ellen's image came. 

His stifled wrath is brimming high, 72c 

In darkened brow and flashing eye ; 

As waves before the bark divide, 

The crowd gave way before his stride ; 

Needs but a buffet and no more, — 

The groom lies senseless in his gore. 725 

Such blow no other hand could deal. 

Though gaunt leted in glove of steel. 

LADY OF THK LAKE — I 3 



194 1"^^ Lady of the Lake 

XXVI 

Then clamoured loud the royal train, 

And brandished swords and staves amain. 

But stern the baron's warning — ' Back ! 730 

Back, on your lives, ye menial pack ! 

Beware the Douglas. — Yes ! behold, 

King James ! the Douglas, doomed of old, 

And vainly sought for near and far, 

A victim to atone the war, 735 

A willing victim, now attends. 

Nor craves thy grace but for his friends.' 

* Thus is my clemency repaid ? 

Presumptuous lord ! ' the monarch said ; 

*Of thy mis-proud ambitious clan, 7^0 

Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man, 

The only man, in whom a foe 

My woman-mercy would not know : 

But shall a monarch's presence brook 

Injurious blow and haughty look ? — 745 

What ho ! the captain of our Guard ! 

Give the offender fitting ward.^ — 

Break off the sports ! ' — for tumult rose, 

And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows, — 

' Break off the sports ! ' he said, and frowned, 750 

' And bid our horsemen clear the ground.' 

xxvii 
Then uproar wild and misarray^ 
Marred the fair form of festal day. 
1 Guard, confinement. - Disorder. 



Canto V T95 

The horsemen pricked among the crowd. 

Repelled by threats and insult loud ; 755 

To earth are borne the old and weak, 

The timorous fly, the women shriek ; 

With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar, 

The hardier urge ^ tumultuous war. 

At once round Douglas darkly sweep 760 

The royal spears in circle deep, 

And slowly scale the pathway steep ; 

While on the rear in thunder pour 

I'he rabble with disordered roar. 

With grief the noble Douglas saw 765 

The Commons rise against the law. 

And to the leading soldier said, — 

' Sir John of Hyndford ! 'twas my blade 

That knighthood on thy shoulder laid ; 

For that good deed, permit me then 770 

A word with these misguided men. — 

XXVI II 

' Hear, gentle friends ! ere yet for me 

^'e break the bands of fealty. - 

My life, my honour, and my cause, 

I tender free to Scotland's laws. 775 

Are these so weak as must require 

The aid of your misguided ire ? 

Or, if I suffer causeless wrong. 

Is then my selfish rage so strong, 

1 Carry on. ^ Allegiance. 



1^6 The Lady of the Lake 

My sense of public weal so low, 780 

That, for mean vengeance on a foe. 

Those cords of love I should unbind 

Which knit my country and my kind ? ^ 

O no ! Believe, in yonder tower 

It will not soothe my captive hour, 7S5 

To know those spears our foes should dread 

For me in kindred gore are red ; 

To know, in fruitless brawl begun 

For me that mother wails her son. 

For me that widow's mate expires, 790 

For me that orphans weep their sires, 

That patriots mourn insulted laws, 

And curse the Douglas for the cause. 

O let your patience ward - such ill, 

And keep your right to love me still ! ' 795 

XXIX 

The crowd's wild fury sunk again 
In tears, as tempests melt in rain. 
With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed 
For blessings on his generous head, 
Who for his country felt alone 800 

And prized her blood beyond his own. 
Old men, upon the verge of life. 
Blessed him who staid the civil strife ; 
And mothers held their babes on high, 
The self-devoted chief to spy, 805 

1 Race. 2 Guard against. 



Canto V 197 

Triumphant over wrongs and ire, 

To whom the prattlers owed a sire : 

Even the rough soldier's heart was moved ; 

As if behind some bier beloved, 

With trailing arms and drooping head, 810 

The Douglas up the hill he led, 

And at the castle's battled ^ verge 

With sighs resigned his honoured charge. 

XXX 

The offended monarch rode apart. 
With bitter thought and swelling heart, S15 

And would not now vouchsafe again 
Through Stirling streets to lead his train. — 
' O Lennox, who would wish to rule 
This changeling crowd, this common fool ? 
Hear'st thou,' he said, ' the loud acclaim, S20 
With which they shout the Douglas name ? 
With like acclaim, the vulgar throat 
Strained for King James their morning note ; 
With like acclaim they hailed the day 
When first I broke the Douglas sway ; 825 

And like acclaim would Douglas greet, 
If he could hurl me from my seat. 
Who o'er the herd would wish to reign. 
Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain ! 
Vain as the leaf upon the stream, 830 

And fickle as a changeful dream ; 
1 Strenffthened with battlements. 



ic^8 The Lady of the Lake 

Fantastic as a woman's mood, 

And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood, 

Thou many-headed monster-thing, 

who would wish to be thy king ! S35 

XXXI 

' But soft ! what messenger of speed 
Spurs hitherward his panting steed ? 

1 guess his cognizance ^ afar — 

What from our cousin, John of Mar ? ' — 

' He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound S40 

Within the safe and guarded ground : 

For some foul purpose yet unknown, — 

Most sure for evil to the throne, — 

The outlaM'ed chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 

Has summoned his rebellious crew ; 845 

'Tis said, in James of Both well's aid 

These loose banditti - stand arrayed. 

The Earl of Mar this morn from Doune 

To break their muster marched, and soon 

Your grace will hear of battle fought ; S50 

But earnestly the Earl besought, 

Till for such danger he provide, 

With scanty train you will not ride.' 

XXXII 

' Thou warn'st me I have done amiss, — 
I should have earlier looked to this : 855 

1 Coat-of-arms. '^ Bandits, outlaws. 



Canto V 199 

I lost ^ it in this bustling day. 

— Retrace with speed thy former way ; 

Spare not for spoiling of- thy steed, — 

The best of mine shall be thy meed. 

Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, 860 

We do forbid the intended war : 

Roderick, this morn, in single fight, 

Was made our prisoner by a knight ; 

And Douglas hath himself and cause 

Submitted to our kingdom's laws. 865 

The tidings of their leaders lost 

Will soon dissolve the mountain host. 

Nor would we that the vulgar ^ feel, 

For their chief's crimes, avenging steel. 

Bear Mar our message, Braco : fly ! ' — 870 

He turned his steed, — ' My liege, I hie, — 

Yet ere I cross this lily lawn 

I fear the broadswords will be drawn.' 

The turf the flying courser spurned, 

And to his towers the king returned. 875 



111 with King James's mood that day 
Suited gay feast and minstrel lay ; 
Soon were dismissed the courtly throng, 
And soon cut short the festal song. 
Nor less upon the saddened town 8! 

The evening sunk in sorrow down. 
1 Forgut. ^ For fear of spoiling. ^ Common people. 



200 Vhe Lady of the Lake 

The burghers spoke of civil jar, 

Of rumoured feuds and mountain war, 

Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu, 

All up in arms : — the Douglas too, 8S5 

They mourned him pent within the hold, 

' Where stout Earl William was of old.' — • 

And there his word the speaker staid. 

And finger on his lip he laid. 

Or pointed to his dagger blade. Suo 

But jaded horsemen from the west 

At evening to the castle pressed ; 

And busy talkers said they bore 

Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore ; 

At noon the deadly fray begun, S95 

And lasted till the set of sun. 

Thus giddy rumour shook the town. 

Till closed the Night her pennons ^ brown. 

1 Wings. 



CANTO SIXTH 
The Guard-room 

The sun, awakening, through the smoky air 

Of the dark city casts a sullen glance, 
Rousing each caitiff ^ to his task of care, 
• Of sinful man the sad inheritance ; 
Summoning revellers from the lagging dance, 5 

Scaring the prowling robber to his den ; 
Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance. 

And warning student pale to leave his pen. 
And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men. 

What various scenes, and, O ! what scenes of woe, 10 

Are witnessed by that red and struggling beam I 
The fevered patient, from his pallet low, 

Through crowded hospital beholds its stream ; 
The ruined maiden trembles at its gleam, 

The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail, 15 

The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream ; 

The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale, 
Trims- her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble 
wail. 

II 

At dawn the towers of Stirling rang 
With soldier-step and weapon-clang, 20 

1 Wretch. '^ Makes trim. 



202 The Lady of the Lake 

While drums, with rolling note, foretell 

Relief to weary sentinel. 

Through narrow^ loop and casement barred, 

The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, 

And, struggling with the smoky air, 25 

Deadened the torches' yellow glare. 

In comfortless alliance shone 

The lights through arch of blackened stone, 

And showed wild shapes in garb of w'ar, 

Faces deformed with beard and scar, 30 

All haggard from the midnight watch, 

And fevered with the stern debauch ; 

For the oak table's massive board. 

Flooded with wine, with fragments stored, 

And beakers drained, and cups overthrown, 35 

Showed in w^hat sport the night had flown. 

Some, weary, snored on floor and bench ; 

Some laboured still their thirst to quench ; 

Some, chilled with watching, spread their hands 

O'er the huge chimney's dying brands, 40 

While round them, or beside them flung, 

At every step their harness ^ rung. 

Ill 

These drew not for their fields the sword, 
Like tenants of a feudal lord. 

Nor owned the patriarchal claim 45 

Of chieftain in their leader's name ; 
1 Armour. 



Canto VI 203 

Adventurers they, from far who roved, 

To Hve by battle which they loved. 

There the Italian's clouded face, 

The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace; 50 

The mountain-loving Switzer there 

More freely breathed in mountain-air : 

The Fleming ^ there despised the soil 

That paid so ill the labourer's toil ; 

Their rolls showed French and German name; 55 

And merry England's exiles came, 

To share, with ill-concealed disdain, 

Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain. 

All brave in arms, well trained to wield 

The heavy halberd,- brand, and shield ; 60 

In camps licentious, wild, and bold ; 

In pillage fierce and uncontrolled ; 

And now, by holytide '' and feast. 

From rules of discipline released. 

IV 

They held debate of bloody fray, 65 

Fought 'twixt Loch Katrine and Achray. 
Fierce was their speech, and 'mid their words 
Their hands oft grappled to their swords ; 
Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear 
Of wounded comrades groaning near, 70 

Whose mangled limbs and bodies gored 
Bore token of the mountain sword, 
1 Native of Flanders. ^ j^ kind of battle-ax. ^ piolidav. 



204 The Lady of the Lake 

Though, neighbouring to the Court of Guard, 

Their prayers and feverish wails were heard, — 

Sad burden ^ to the ruffian joke, 75 

And savage oath by fury spoke ! — 

At length up-started John of Brent 

A yeoman from the banks of Trent ; 

A stranger to respect or fear, 

In peace a chaser of the deer, 80 

In host a hardy mutineer, 

But still the boldest of the crew, 

When deed of danger was to do. 

He grieved, that day, their games cut short, 

And marred the dicer's brawling sport, 85 

And shouted loud, ' Renew the bowl ! 

And, while a merry catch ^ I troU,^ 

Let each the buxom ^ chorus bear, 

Like brethren of the brand and spear.' 



SOLDIER S SONG 

' Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule" 90 

Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl, 
That there's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack/' 
And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack ^ ; 
Yet whoop, Barnaby ! off with thy liquor. 
Drink upsees out,^ and a fig for the vicar ! 95 

1 Refrain. ^ Song (round). ^ Sing. * Lively. ^ raiil. 

^ A kind of jug. ' Wine. ^ Deeply. 



Canto VI 205 

Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip 
The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip, 
Says that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly, 
And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye ; 
Vet whoop, Jack ! kiss Gillian the quicker, 100 

Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar 1 

t 

Our vicar thus preaches — and why should he not? 
For the dues of his cure ' are the placket and pot-; 
And 'tis right of his office poor laymen to lurch ,'^ 
Who infringe the domains of our good Mother Church. 
Yet whoop, bully-boys ! off with your liquor, 106 

Sweet Marjorie's the word, and a fig for the vicar ! ' 

VI 

The warder's challenge, heard without, 
Staid in mid-roar the merry shout. 
A soldier to the portal went, — no 

' Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent; 
And, — beat for jubilee the drum ! 
A maid and minstrel with him come.' 
Bertram, a Fleming, grey and scarred. 
Was entering now the Court of Guard, 115 

A harper with him, and, in plaid 
All muffled close, a mountain maid, 
W^ho backward shrunk to 'scape the view 
Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. 
1 Office, charge. 2 "Wonieu and wine. ^ Rob. 



2o6 The Lady of the Lake 

' What news ? ' they roared. — ' I only know 120 

From noon till eve we fought with foe 

As wild and as untamable 

As the rude mountains where they dwell ; 

On both sides store ^ of blood is lost, 

Nor much success can either boast.' — 125 

' But whence thy captives, friend ? such spoil 

As theirs must needs reward thy toil. 

Old dost thou wax,^ and wars grow sharp ; 

Thou now hast glee-maiden" and harp ! 

Get thee an ape, and trudge the land, 13c 

The leader of a juggler band.' — 



VII 

* No, comrade ; — no such fortune mine. 
After the fight, these sought our line. 
That aged harper and the girl, 

And, having audience of the Earl, 135 

Mar bade I should purvey^ them steed. 

And bring them hitherward with speed. 

Forbear your mirth and rude alarm, 

For none shall do them shame or harm.' — 

' Hear ye his boast ? ' cried John of Brent, 140 

Ever to strife and jangling^ bent ; 

* Shall he strike doe beside our lodge. 
And yet the jealous niggard grudge 
To pay the forester his fee ? 

1 Plenty. 2 Grow. ^ Song-girl. ■* T^urnish. ^ Quarrelling. 



Canto VI 207 

I'll have my share, howe'er it be, 145 

Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee.' 

Bertram his forward step withstood ; 

And, burning in his vengeful mood, 

Old Allan, though unfit for strife. 

Laid hand upon his dagger-knife ; 150 

But Ellen boldly stepped between. 

And dropped at once the tartan screen : — 

So, from his morning cloud, appears 

The sun of May, through summer tears. 

The savage soldiery, amazed, 155 

As on descended angel gazed ; 

Even hardy Brent, abashed and tamed, 

Stood half admiring, half ashamed. 



VIII 

Boldly she spoke, — ' Soldiers, attend! 

My father was the soldier's friend ; 160 

Cheered him in camps, in marches led. 

And with him in the battle bled. 

Not from the valiant or the strong 

Should exile's daughter suffer wrong.' — 

Answered De Brent, most forward still 165 

In every feat or good or ill, — 

' I shame me of the part I played ; 

And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid ' 

An outlaw I by forest laws. 

And merry Needw^ood knows the cause. 170 



2o8 The Lady of the Lake 

Poor Rose, — if Rose be livins^ now,' — 

He wiped his iron eye and brow, — 

' Must bear such age, I think, as thou. — 

Hear ye, my mates ; — I go to call 

The captain of our watch to hall : 175 

There lies my halberd on the floor ; 

And he that steps my halberd o'er. 

To do the maid injurious part, 

My shaft shall quiver in his heart ! — 

Beware loose speech, or jesting rough : iSo 

Ye all know John de Brent. F'.nough.' 

IX 

Their captain came, a gallant young, — 

(Of Tullibardine's house he sprung,) 

Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight ; 

Gay was his mien, his humour light, 1S5 

And, though by courtesy controlled, 

Forward his speech, his bearing bold. 

The high-born maiden ill could brook 

The scanning of his curious look 

And dauntless eye ; — and yet, in sooth, k^o 

Young Lewis was a generous youth ; 

But Ellen's lovely face and mien, 

III suited to the garb and scene. 

Might lightly bear construction strange, 

And give loose fancy scope to range. 195 

' Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid ! 

Come ye to seek a champion's aid. 



Canto VI 



209 



On palfrey white, with harper hoar, 

Like errant damosel ^ of yore ? 

Does thy high quest a knight require, 

Or may the venture suit a squire ? ' — 

Her dark eye flashed ; — she paused and sighed, 

' () what have I to do with pride 1 — 

Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife, 

A suppHant for a father's hfe, 

I crave an audience of the king. 

Behold, to back my suit, a ring, 

The royal pledge of grateful claims, 

Given by the monarch to Fitz-James.' 



The signet-ring young Lewis took, 
With deep respect and altered look ; 
And said — ' This ring our duties own ; 
And pardon, if to worth unknown, 
In semblance mean- obscurely veiled, 
Lady, in aught my folly failed. 
Soon as the day flings wide his gates. 
The king shall know what suitor waits. 
Please you, meanwhile, in fitting bower 
Repose you till his waking hour ; 
Female attendance shall obey 
Your hest, for service or array. 
Permit I marshal you the way.' 
Wandering maiden. 2 l^owly appearance. 

LADY OF THE LAKE — I4 



2IO The Lady of the Lake 

But, ere she followed, with the grace 

And open bounty of her race. 

She bade her slender purse be shared 225 

Among the soldiers of the guard. 

The rest with thanks their guerdon took ; 

But Brent, with shy and awkward look, 

On the reluctant maiden's hold 

P'orced bluntly back the proffered gold ; — 230 

* Forgive a haughty English heart, 

And () forget its ruder part ! 

The vacant purse shall be my share, 

Which in my barret-cap^ I'll bear. 

Perchance, in jeopardy of war, 235 

Where gayer crests may keep afar.' 

With thanks — 'tw^as all she could — the maid 

His rugged courtesy repaid. 

XI 

When Ellen forth with Lewis went, 
Allan made suit to John of Brent : — 240 

' My lady safe, O let your grace 
Give me to see my master's face ! 
His minstrel I, — to share his doom 
Bound from the cradle to the tomb. 
Tenth in descent, since first my sires 245 

Waked for his noble house their lyres, 
Nor one of all the race was known 
But prized its weal above their own. 
1 Military cap. 



Canto VI 211 

With the chief's birth begins our care ; 

Our harp must soothe the infant heir, 250 

Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace 

His earhest feat of field or chase ; 

In peace, in war, our rank we keep, 

\Ve cheer his board, we soothe his sleep, 

Nor leave him till we pour our verse — 255 

A doleful tribute ! — o'er his hearse. 

Then let me share his captive lot ; 

It is my right — deny it not ! ' — 

' Little we reck,' said John of Brent, 

' We Southern men, of long descent ; 260 

Nor wot^ we how a name — a word — 

Makes clansmen vassals to a lord : 

Yet kind my noble landlord's part, — 

God bless the house of Beaudesert ! 

And, but I loved to drive the deer 265 

More than to guide the labouring steer, 

I had not dwelt an outcast here. 

Come, good old minstrel, follow me ; 

Thy lord and chieftain shalt thou see.' 



XII 

Then from a rusted iron hook 
A bunch of ponderous keys he took, 
Lighted a torch, and Allan led 
Through grated arch and passage dread. 

1 Know. 



212 The Lady of the Lake 

Portals they passed, where, deep within, 
Spoke prisoner's moan, and fetters' din ; 275 

Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored, 
Lay wheel, and ax, and headsman's sword, 
And many an hideous engine grim 
For wrenching joint and crushing limb, 
By artists formed who deemed it shame 280 

And sin to give their work a name. 
They halted at a low-browed porch, 
And Brent to Allan gave the torch. 
While bolt and chain he backward rolled. 
And made the bar unhasp its hold. 2S5 

They entered : — 'twas a prison room 
Of stern security and gloom, 
Yet not a dungeon ; for the day 
Through lofty gratings found its way. 
And rude and antique garniture 290 

Decked the sad walls and oaken floor ; 
Such as the rugged days of old 
Deemed fit for captive noble's hold. 
* Here,' said De Brent, ' thou mayst remain 
Till the leech ^ visit him again. 295 

Strict is his charge, the warders tell. 
To tend the noble prisoner well.' 
Retiring then, the bolt he drew% 
And the lock's murmurs growled anew. 
Roused at the sound, from lowly bed 300 

A captive feebly raised his head ; 
1 Physician. 



Canto VI 213 

The wondering minstrel looked, and knew — 
Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu ! 
For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought, 
They, erring, deemed the chief he sought. 305 

XIII 

As the tall ship, whose lofty prore ^ 
Shall never stem the billows more, 
Deserted by her gallant band, 
Amid the breakers lies astrand,- — 
So, on his couch, lay Roderick Dim ! 310 

x\nd oft his fevered limbs he threw 
In toss abrupt, as w^hen her sides 
Lie rocking in the advancing tides, 
That shake her frame w'ith ceaseless beat. 
Yet cannot heave her from her seat ; — 315 

O, how unlike her course on sea ! 
Or his free step on hill and lea ! — 
Soon as the minstrel he could scan, 
* What of thy lady ? — of my clan ? — 
My mother ? — Douglas ? — tell me all ? ^ 320 
Have they been ruined in my fall ? 
Ah, yes ! or wherefore art thou here ? 
Yet speak, — speak boldly, — do not fear.' — 
(For Allan, who his mood well knew. 
Was choked with grief and terror too.) 325 

'Who fought? — who fled ? — Old man, be brief ; — 
Some might — for they had lost their chief 
1 Prow. 2 Stranded. 



214 "^"^^ Lady of the Lake 

Who basely live? — who bravely died ? ' — 

' O, calm thee, Chief ! ' the minstrel cried ; 

* Ellen is safe ; ' — ' For that, thank Heaven ! ' — 

' And hopes are for the Douglas given ; — 331 

The Lady Margaret, too, is well ; 

And, for thy clan, — on field or fell, 

Has never harp of minstrel told 

Of combat fought so true and bold. 335 

Thy stately Pine is yet unbent. 

Though many a goodly bough is rent' 

XIV 

The chieftain reared his form on high, 
And fever's fire was in his eye ; 
But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks 340 

Chequered his swarthy brow and cheeks. 
— ' Hark, minstrel ! I have heard thee play, 
With measure bold, on festal day, 
In yon lone isle, — again where ne'er 
Shall harper play, or warrior hear ! — 345 

That stirring air that peals on high 
O'er Dermid's race our victory. — 
Strike it! — and then, (for well thou canst) 
Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced,^ 
Fling me the picture of the fight, 350 

When met my clan the Saxon might. 
I'll listen, till my fancy hears 
The clang of swords, the crash of spears I 
1 Flashed. 



Canto VI 215 

These grates, these walls, shall vanish then, 

For the fair field of fighting men, 355 

And my free spirit burst away. 

As if it soared from battle-fray,' 

The trembling bard with awe obeyed, — 

Slow on the harp his hand he laid ; 

But soon remembrance of the sight 360 

He witnessed from the mountain's height, 

With what old Bertram told at night. 

Awakened the full power of song. 

And bore him in career along ; — 

As shallop launched on river's tide, 365 

That slow and fearful leaves the side. 

But, when it feels the middle stream, 

Drives downward swift as lightning'3 beam. 

XV 

BATTLE OF BEAL' AN DUINE 

* The minstrel came once more to view 
The eastern ridge of Benvenue, . 370 

For, ere he parted, he would say 
Farewell to lovely Loch Achray — 
Where shall he find, in foreign land, 
So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! 

There is no breeze upon the fern, 375 

Nor ripple on the lake. 
Upon her eyry nods the erne,^ 
The deer has sought the brake ; 
1 Eagle. 



i6 The Lady of the Lake 

The small birds will not sing aloud, 

The springing trout lies still, 380 

So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud. 
That swathes, as with a purple shroud, 

Benledi's distant hill. 
Is it the thunder's solemn sound 

That mutters deep and dread, 385 

Or echoes from the groaning ground 

The warrior's measured tread ? 
Is it the lightning's quivering glance 

That on the thicket streams. 
Or do they flash on spear and lance 390 

The sun's retiring beams ? 
I see the dagger-crest of Mar, 
I see the Moray's silver star, 
Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon w^ar, 
That up the lake comes winding far ! 395 

To hero bound for battle-strife, 

Or bard of martial lay, 
'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life, 

One glance at their array ! 

XVI 

' Their light-armed archers far and near 409 

Surveyed the tangled ground ; 
Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, 

A twilight forest frowned ; 
Their barded ^ horsemen, in the rear, 
^ Armoured. 



Canto VI 217 

The stern battalia ^ crowned. 405 

No cymbal clashed, no clarion rang, 

Still were the pipe and drum : 
Save heavy tread, and armour's clang, 

The sullen march was dumb. 
There breathed no wind their crests to shake, 

Or wave their flags abroad ; 411 

Scarce the frail aspen seemed to quake, 

That shadowed o'er their road. 
Their vaward - scouts no tidings bring, 

Can rouse no lurking foe, 415 

Nor spy a trace of living thing, 

Save when they stirred the roe ; 
The host moves like a deep-sea wave, 
Where rise no rocks its pride to brave, 

High-swelling, dark, and slow. 420 

The lake is passed, and now they gain 
A narrow and a broken plain. 
Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws ; 
And here the horse and spearmen pause, 
While, to explore the dangerous glen, 425 

Dive through the pass the archer-men. 

XVII 

' At once there rose so wild a yell 
Within that dark and narrow dell, 
xAs ^ all the fiends, from heaven that fell, 
Had pealed the banner-cry of hell ! 430 

^ Army. ^ Vanguard. ^ As if. 



21 8 The Lady of the Lak» 

Forth from the pass in tumult driven, 
Like chaff before the wind of heaven, 

The archery appear ; 
For life ! for life ! their flight they ply — 
And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry, 435 

And plaids and bonnets waving high, 
And broadswords flashing to the sky, 

Are maddening in the rear. 
Onward they drive, in dreadful race. 

Pursuers and pursued ; 440 

Before that tide of flight and chase, 
How shall it keep its rooted place. 

The spearmen's twilight wood ? — 
''Down, down," cried Mar, "your lances down! 

Bear back both friend and foe ! " — 445 

Like reeds before the tempest's frown. 
That serried grove of lances brown 

At once lay levelled low ; 
And closely shouldering side to side, 
The bristling ranks the onset bide. — 450 

" We'll quell the savage mountaineer. 

As their tinchel ^ cows ^ the game ! 
They come as fleet as forest deer, 

We'll drive them back as tame." — 

xviii 

* Bearing before them, in their course, 455 

The relics ^ of the archer force, 
1 Circle of sportsmen. ^ Overcomes. ^ Remainder. 



Canto VI 219 

Like wave with crest of sparkling foam, 
Right onward did Clan-Alpine come. 
Above the tide, each broadsword bright 
Was brandishing like beam of light, 460 

Each targe was dark below ; 
And with the ocean's mighty swing, 
When heaving to the tempest's wing, 
They hurled them on the foe. 
I heard the lance's shivering crash, 465 

As when the whirlwind rends the ash ; 
I heard the broadsword's deadly clang, 
As if an hundred anvils rang ! 
But Moray wheeled his rearward rank 
Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank, 470 

— " My banner-man, advance ! 
I see," he cried, " their column shake. — 
Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake. 

Upon them with the lance ! " — 
The horsemen dashed among the rout, 475 

As deer break through the broom ; 
Their steeds are stout, their swords are out. 

They soon make lightsome room. 
Clan-Alpine's best are backward borne — 

Where, where was Roderick then ? 480 

One blast upon his bugle-horn 

Were worth a thousand men ! 
And refluent ^ through the pass of fear 
The battle's tide was poured ; 
1 Flowing back. 



2 20 The Lady of the Lake 

Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear, 485 

Vanished the mountain-sword, 
As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep, 

Receives her roaring linn,^ 
As the dark caverns of the deep 

Suck the dark whirlpool in, 490 

So did the deep and darksome pass 
Devour the battle's mingled mass : 
None linger now upon the plain, 
Save those who ne'er shall fight again. 



495 



XIX 

Now westward rolls the battle's din, 

That deep and doubling pass within. 

— Minstrel, away ! the work of fate 

Is bearing on : its issue wait. 

Where the rude Trosachs' dread defile 

Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. — 500 

Grey Benvenue I soon repassed, 

Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast. 

The sun is set; — the clouds are met, 
The lowering scowl of heaven 

An inky hue of livid blue 505 

To the deep lake has given ; 
Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen 
Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again. 
I heeded not the eddying surge. 

Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge, 510 

1 Water-fall. 



Canto VI 22 1 

Mine ear but heard that sullen sound, 

Which like an earthquake shook the ground, 

And spoke the stern and desperate strife 

That parts not but with parting life, 

Seeming, to minstrel ear, to toll 515 

The dirge of many a passing soul. 

Nearer it comes — the dim-wood glen 

The martial flood disgorged again, 
But not in mingled tide ; 

The plaided warriors of the North 520 

High on the mountain thunder forth 
And overhang its side ; 

While by the lake below appears 

The darkening cloud of Saxon spears. 

At weary bay^ each shattered band, 525 

Eyeing their foemen, sternly stand ; 

Their banners stream like tattered sail. 

That flings its fragments to the gale. 

And broken arms and disarray 

Marked the fell - havoc of the day. 530 

XX 

* Viewing the mountain's ridge askance, 
The Saxon stood in sullen trance, 
Till Moray pointed with his lance, 

And cried — " Behold yon isle ! — 
See ! none are left to guard its strand, 535 

But women weak, that wring the hand : 

1 Weary, ami at bay. - Destructive, 



222 The Lady of the Lake 

'Tis there of yore the robber band 

Their booty wont to pile ; — 
My purse, with bonnet-pieces ^ store, 
To him will swim a bow-shot o'er, 540 

And loose a shallop from the shore. 
Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then, 
Lords of his mate, and brood, and den." — 
Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung, 
On earth his casque and corslet rung, 545 

He plunged him in the wave : — 
All saw the deed — the purpose knew, 
And to their clamours Benvenue 

A mingled echo gave ; 
The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer, 550 

The helpless females scream for fear, 
And yells for rage the mountaineer. 
'Twas then, as by the outcry riven,^ 
Poured down at once the lowering heaven ; 
A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast, 555 
Her billows reared their snowy crest. 
Well for the swimmer swelled they high, 
To mar the Highland marksman's eye ; 
For round him showered, 'mid rain and hail, 
The vengeful arrows of the Gael. — 560 

In vain — He nears the isle — and lo ! 
His hand is on a shallop's bow. 
— Just then a flash of lightning came, 
It tinged the waves and strand with flame ; — 
1 Gold coins, showing the king bonneted. ^ Shattered. 



Canto VI 



223 



I marked Duncraggan's widowed dame, — 565 

Behind an oak I saw her stand, 

A naked dirk gleamed in her hand : 

It darkened, — but, amid the moan 

Of waves, I heard a dying groan ; 

Another flash ! — the spearman floats 570 

A weltering corse beside the boats, 

And the stern matron o'er him stood, 

Her hand and dagger streaming blood. 

XXI 

" Revenge ! revenge ! " the Saxons cried — 

The Gaels' exulting shout replied. 575 

Despite the elemental rage. 

Again they hurried to engage ; 

But, ere they closed in desperate fight, 

Bloody with spurring came a knight. 

Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag, 580 

Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white iiao. 

Clarion and trumpet by his side 

Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, 

While, in the monarch's name, afar 

A herald's voice forbade the war, 585 

For Bothwell's lord, and Roderick bold, 

Were both, he said, in captive hold.' 

— But here the lay made sudden stand, — 

The harp escaped the minstrel's hand ! — 

Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy 590 

How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy : 



2 24 The Lady of the Lake 

At first, the chieftain to the chime,'^ 

With lifted hand, kept feeble time ; 

That motion ceased, — yet feeUng strong 

Varied his look as changed the song ; 595 

At length, no more his deafened ear 

The minstrel melody can hear ; 

His face grows sharp, — his hands are clenched 

As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched ; 

Set are his teeth, his fading eye 600 

Is sternly fixed on vacancy ; 

Thus, motionless and moanless, drew 

His parting breath stout Roderick Dhu ! — 

Old Allan-Bane looked on aghast. 

While grim and still his spirit passed : 605 

But when he saw that life was fled, 

He poured his wailing o'er the dead. 

XXII 
LAMENT 

* And art thou cold and lowly laid, 
Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, 
Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade ! r.io 
For thee shall none a requiem say ? 
— For thee, — who loved the minstrel's lay, 
P'or thee, of Both well's house the stay. 
The shelter of her exiled line. 
E'en in this prison-house of thine, 615 

I'll wail for Alpine's honoured Pine! 
1 Music. 



Canto VI 225 

' What groans shall yonder valleys till ! 
What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill ! 
What tears of burning rage shall thrill, 
\^'hen mourns thy tribe thy battles done, 620 

Thy fall before the race was won, 
Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun ! 
There breathes not clansman of thy line, 
But would have given his life for thine. — 
O woe for Alpine's honoured Pine ! 625 

' Sad was thy lot on mortal stage ! — 
The captive thrush may brook the cage, 
The prisoned eagle dies for rage. 
Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain ! 
And, when its notes awake again, 630 

Even she, so long beloved in vain, 
Shall with my harp her voice combine. 
And mix her woe and tears with mine, 
To \vail Clan-Alpine's honoured Pine.' — 

XXIII 

Ellen, the while, with bursting heart, 635 

Remained in lordly bower apart, 

Where played, with many-coloured gleams, 

Through storied pane the rising beams. 

In vain on gilded roof they fall, 

And lightened up a tapestried wall, 640 

And for her use a menial train 

A rich collation spread in vain. 

LADY OF IHE LAKE — I 5 



226 The Lady of the Lake 

The banquet proud, the chamber gay, 

Scarce drew one curious glance astray ; 

Or, if she looked, 'twas but to say 645 

With better omen dawned the day 

In that lone isle, where waved on high 

The dun-deer's hide for canopy ; 

Where oft her noble father shared 

The simple meal her care prepared, 650 

While Lufra, crouching by her side, 

Her station claimed with jealous pride, 

And Douglas, bent on woodland game, 

Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Gramme, 

Whose answer, oft at random made, 655 

The wandering of his thoughts betrayed. 

Those who such simple joys have known 

Are taught to prize them when they're gone. 

But sudden, see, she lifts her head ! 

The window seeks with cautious tread. 660 

What distant music has the power 

To win her in this woeful hour ? 

'Twas from a turret that o'erhung 

Her latticed bower, the strain was sung. 

XXIV 
LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN 

' My hawk is tired of perch and hood, 665 

My idle greyhound loathes his food, 
My horse is weary of his stall, 
And I am sick of captive thrall. 



Canto VI 227 

I wish I were, as I have been, 

Hunting the hart in forest green, 670 

With bended bow and bloodhound free, 

For that's the Ufe is meet ^ for me, 

I hate to learn the ebb of time, 

From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime, 

Or mark it as the sunbeams crawd, 575 

Inch after inch, along the wall. 

The lark w^as wont my matins ring, 

The sable rook my vespers sing ; 

These towers, although a king's they be, 

Have not a hall of joy for me. 680 

No more at dawning morn I rise, 

And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, 

Drive the fleet deer the forest through, 

And homeward wend with evening dew ; 

A blithesome welcome blithely meet, 685 

And lay my trophies at her feet. 

While fled the eve on wing of glee, — 

That life is lost to love and me ! ' 

XXV 

The heart-sick lay was hardly said, 
The listener had not turned her head, 6go 

It trickled still, the starting tear. 
When light a footstep struck her ear, 
And Snowdoun's graceful knight was near. 
1 Fitting. 



i The Lady of the Lake 

She turned the hastier, lest again 

The prisoner should renew his strain. — 695 

' O welcome, brave Fitz-James ! ' she said ; 

' How may an almost orphan maid 

Pay the deep debt ' — ' O say not so ! 

To me no gratitude you owe. 

Not mine, alas ! the boon to give, 700 

And bid thy noble father live ; 

I can but be thy guide, sweet maid, 

With Scotland's king thy suit to aid. 

No tyrant he, though ire and pride 

May lay his better mood aside. 705 

Come, Ellen, come! 'tis more than time — 

He holds his court at morning prime.' ^ 

With beating heart, and bosom wrung. 

As to a brother's arm she clung : 

Gently he dried the falling tear, 710 

And gently whispered hope and cheer ; 

Her faltering steps half led, half staid,- 

Through gallery fair and high arcade, 

Till, at his touch, its wings of pride 

A portal arch unfolded wide. 715 

XXVI 

within 'twas brilliant all and light, 
A thronging scene of figures bright ; 
It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight, 

^ The first period of the morning. - Suj^ported. 



Canto VI 229 

As when the setting sun has given 

Ten thousand hues to summer even, 720 

x\nd from their tissue fancy frames 

Aerial knights and fairy dames. 

Still by Fitz-James her footing staid ; 

A few faint steps she forward made, 

Then slow her drooping head she raised, 725 

And fearful round the presence ^ gazed ; 

For him she sought who owned this state, 

The dreaded prince whose will was fate ! — 

She gazed on many a princely port ^ 

Might well have ruled a royal court ; 730 

On many a splendid garb she gazed, 

Then turned bewildered and amazed. 

For all stood bare ; and in the room 

Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. 

To him each lady's look was lent ; 735 

On him each courtier's eye was bent ; 

Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen, 

He stood, in simple Lincoln green. 

The centre of the glittering ring, — 

And Snowdoun's knight is Scotland's king ! 740 

xxvii 

As wreath of snow on mountain-breast 
Slides from the rock that gave it rest, 
Poor Ellen glided from her stay,'' 

Presence-chamber. - I.e. one with princely bearing. 

2 Support. 



230 I'he Lady of the Lake 

And at the monarch's feet she lay ; 

No word her choking voice commands, — 745 

She showed the ring — she clasped her hands. 

0, not a moment could he brook, 

The generous prince, that suppliant look 1 

Gently he raised her ; and, the while, 

Checked with a glance the circle's smile ; 750 

Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed, 

And bade her terrors be dismissed : — 

' Yes, Fair ; the wandering poor Fitz-James 

The fealty of Scotland claims. 

To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring ; 755 

He will redeem his signet ring. 

Ask nought for Douglas ; yester even, 

His prince and he have much forgiven : 

Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue — 

1, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 760 
We would not to the vulgar crowd 

Yield what they craved M'ith clamour loud ; 

Calmly we heard and judged his cause. 

Our council aided, and our laws. 

I stanched thy father's death-feud stern 765 

With stout De Vaux and grey Glen cairn ; 

And Bothwell's lord henceforth we own 

The friend and bulwark of our throne. — 

But, lovely infidel, how now ? 

What clouds thy misbelieving brow? 770 

Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid ; 

Thou must confirm this doubting maid.' 



Canto VI 231 



XXVIII 

Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, 
And on his neck his daughter hung. 
The monarch drank, that happy hour, 775 

The sweetest, holiest draught of Power. — 
When it can say, with godlike voice. 
Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice ! 
A^et would not James the general eye 
On nature's raptures long should pry ; 780 

He stepped between — ' Nay, Douglas, nay, 
Steal not my proselyte away ! 
The riddle 'tis my right to read, 
That brought this happy chance to speed. ^ 
Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray 7S5 

In life's more low but happier way, 
'Tis under name which veils my power ; 
Nor falsely veils — for Stirling's tower 
Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims. 
And Normans call me James Fitz-James. 790 

Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, 
Thus learn to right the injured cause.' — 
Then, in a tone apart and low, — 
' Ah, little traitress ! none must know 
What idle dream, what lighter thought, 795 

What vanity full dearly bought. 
Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew 
My spell-bound steps to Benvenue, 
1 Success. 



232 The Lady of the Lake 

In dangerous hour, and all but gave 

Thy monarch's life to mountain glaive ! ' — 800 

Aloud he spoke — ' Thou still dost hold 

That little talisman of gold, 

Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring : — 

What seeks fair Ellen of the king ? ' 



Full well the conscious maiden guessed 805 

He probed the weakness of her breast ; 
But, with that consciousness, there came 
A lightening of her fears for Graeme, 
And more she deemed the monarch's ire 
Kindled 'gainst him who for her sire, Sio 

Rebellious broadsword boldly drew ; 
And, to her generous feeling true, 
She craved the grace ^ of Roderick Dhu. — 
' Forbear thy suit : — the King of kings 
Alone can stay life's parting wings ; 815 

I know his heart, I know his hand. 
Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand ; — 
My fairest earldom would I give 
To bid Clan-Alpine's chieftain live ! — 
Hast thou no other boon to crave ? 820 

No other captive friend to save ? ' 
Blushing, she turned her from the king, 
And to the Douglas gave the ring, 
As if she wished her sire to speak 
^ Pardon. 



Canto VI 233 

The suit that stained ^ her glowing cheek. — 825 

' Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, 

And stubborn justice holds her course, — 

Malcolm, come forth ! ' — and, at the word, 

Down kneeled the Grceme to Scotland's lord. 

' For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, 830 

From thee may Vengeance claim her dues, 

Who, nurtured underneath our smile. 

Hast paid our care by treacherous wile, 

And sought, amid thy faithful clan, 

A refuge for an outlawed man, 835 

Dishonouring thus thy loyal name. — 

Fetters and warder - for the Graeme ! ' — 

His chain of gold the king unstrung, 

The hnks o'er Malcolm's neck he flung. 

Then gently drew the glittering band, 840 

And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. 



Harp of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark, 

On purple peaks a deeper shade descending ; 
In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, 

The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending. S45 
Resume thy wizard elm ! the fountain lending. 

And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy ; ^ 
Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending. 

With distant echo from the fold and lea, 
And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing^ 
bee. • 850 

1 Caused tu redtlen. - Jailer. '^ Returning to the hive. 



234 The Lady of the Lake 

Yet, once again, farewell, thou minstrel Harp! 

Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway ! 
And little reck I of the censure sharp 

May idly cavil ^ at an idle lay. 
Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, 855 

Through secret woes the world has never known, 
When on the weary night dawned wearier da}% 

And bitterer was the grief devoured alone. 
That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress ! is thine own. 

Hark ! as my lingering footsteps slow retire, 860 

Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string ! 
'Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of fire — 

Tis now the brush of fairy's frolic wing ; — 
Receding now, the dying numbers ring 

Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell — ' S65 
And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring 

A wandering v/itch-note of the distant spell — 
And now, 'tis silent all ! — Enchantress, fare thee well ! 

1 Find fault. 



NOTES 

CANTO I 

1. The introduction to each canto of the poem is in the form 
of Spenserian stanzas (of nine lines each, the last being an alex- 
andrine or twelve -syllable verse), which contrast pleasingly with 
the short couplets of the narrative parts. In this case we have 
an imaginative address to the " Harp of the North," the idealized 
poetic spirit of Scotland. 

2. St. Fillan was a saint of the seventh century. , At least two 
springs were dedicated to him. 

14. According pause is a phrase used of pauses in music which 
permit accompanying music to be heard. 

21. Though scarce my skill command, i.e. though my skill 
may scarcely be able to attain (subjunctive). 

28. The stag at eve, etc. Robert Louis Stevenson calls this 
opening of the story "one of the most spirited and poetic in 
literature." 

29. Monan. A Scottish saint. 

31. Glenartney. A valley (see map). 

33. Benvoirlich. For this, and the other mountains of the 
poem, see the map. Ben is the Gaelic prefix meaning /' moun- 
tain." Scott frequently uses geographical and other terms in the 
Gaelic language, — the tongue of the Celtic clans of the Highlands, 
closely connected with the speech of the other Celtic races in 
Ireland and Wales, and of course wholly distinct from the speech 
of the Germanic races (to which English belongs). 

47. Tainted gale, i.e. the air in which he scents the hunters. 
235 



236 Notes 

53. Uam-Var. " Ua-Var, as the name is pronounced, or more 
properly Uaigh-Mor, is a mountain to the northeast of the village 
of Callander, in Menteith, deriving its name, which signifies the 
great den, or cavern, from a sort of retreat among the rocks on the 
south side, said by tradition to have been the abode of a giant." 
(Scott.) 

54. Opening. A hunting term applied to the hounds when 
they begin to bark on scenting the game. 

89. Menteith. The region of the River Teith (see map). 

112. Brigg (Bridge) of Turk. This crosses a stream near 
Loch Achray (see map). 

131. That mountain high. Benvenue. 

137. The death- wound. " When the stag turned to bay, the 
ancient hunter had the perilous task of going in upon, and killing 
or disabling the desperate animal. . . . The task was dangerous, 
and to be adventured upon wisely and warily, either by getting 
behind the stag while he was gazing on the hounds, or by watch- 
ing an opportunity to gallop roundly in upon him and kill him 
with the sword." (Scott.) 

145. Trosachs. On this pass see the Introduction, page 35. 

147. Close couched. This of course refers to the deer, the 
participle agreeing with the noun implied in "his head." 

163. The banks of Seine. King James had been in P>ance 
in 1536. 

197. Shinar's plain. See Genesis xi. 2-4. 

297. Drop a bead, i.e. say a prayer. 

353. Measured mood. Stately manner, 

425. Slighting the petty need, i.e. making light of his smaller 
necessities, — such as want of food. 

438. Couch was pulled. Compare the opening of strophe 2,3 
below. 

459. Eye intent. The Celts believed in a gift of divination or 
jnophecy called " second sight." Scott says : " It is called in Gaelic 
Tdishita)-angh, from 7^aish,?iX\ unreal or shadowy appearance; and 



Canto 11 237 

those possessed of the faculty are called 7\iis/ia/}-iii, which niay be 
aptly translated visionaries." 

464. Lincoln green. This cloth was the cunmKui dress of Low- 
land Scotch and English yeomen and hunters. Compare Canto IV, 
line 575. 

525. Idsean. The ancient Mount Ida, near Troy, was famous for 
its vines. 

528. Hardy plant could bear. Scott occasionally omits tlie 
relative pronoun, as here after "plant"; a common licence in 
Shakespeare's time. 

573. Ferragus or Ascabart. Two giants of romantic legendry. 

580. Though more than kindred. For explanation, see Canto 
II, lines 249-252. 

585. All unasked. "The Highlanders, who carried hospitality 
to a punctilious excess, are said to have considered it churlish to 
ask a stranger his name or lineage before he had taken refresh- 
ment." (Scott.) 

591. Knight of Snowdoun. See Canto \T, lines 788-790. 

622. A harp. Scott quotes here an old author, who says : 
"They (the Highlanders) delight much in music, but chiefly in 
harps and clairschoes of their own fashion. The strings of the 
clairschoes are made of brass wire, and the strings of the harp of 
sinews ; which strings they strike either with their nails, growing 
long, or else with an instrument appointed for that use. . . . They 
sing verses prettily compound, c^mtaining for the most part praises 
of valiant men." Later the harp gave way to the bagpipe. 

729. That exiled race. See the Introduction, p. 28, on the exile 
of the Douglases. 

CANTO II 

7. A minstrel grey. The minstrel was a regular officer of each 
great Scottish family, and it was his special duty to compose and 
sing lyrics in commemoration of the deeds of his master's race and 
friends (see line loyj. 



238 Notes 



28. Southern sky. The Lowland region. 

lOO. Not so had, i.e. would have. 

131. St. Modan. A Scotch abbot of the seventh century. 

141. Bothwell. An ancient castle of the Douglases, on the 
banks of the Clyde. 

159. Tweed to Spey. The Tweed is the southern boundary of 
Scotland, the Spey a river far to the north. 

200. The Bleeding Heart. This was the symbol or cognizance 
of the Douglas family. 

213. Clan-Alpine, i.e. the clan of Alpine, really a number of 
related clans, all claiming descent from an ancient king named 
McAlpine. 

216. A Lennox foray. The land of the Lennox family bordered 
the southern end of Loch Lomond. 

221. Holy-Rood. The palace called Holyrood (still standing), 
in Edinburgh. 

236. Dispensation sought. The permission of the Pope for the 
marriage of cousins. 

260. Maronnan's cell. A chapel at the eastern end of Loch 
Lomond. 

270. Bracklinn. "This beautiful cascade is on the Keltic, 
a mile from Callander. The height of the fall is fifty feet." 
(Scott.) 

306. Tine-man. A nickname of Archibald, the third Earl of 
Douglas, who "was so unfortunate in all his enterprises, that he 
actiuired the epithet of * tine-man,' because he Hjied, or lost, his 
followers in every battle which he fought." (Scott.) 

308. Border spears, etc. Douglas was concerned with Percy 
(Hotspur) in rebellion against Henry IV. 

309. Self-unscabbarded. See Canto I, line 537. 

319. Beltane. May-day, a Celtic festival in honour of the sun, 
which was called " Beal-tein," or " fire of Beal." 

335- Glengyle. A valley at the northwestern end of Loch 
Katrine. 



Canto 1 1 



^39 



363. Thrilling sounds. Scott quotes from Dr. Beattie as fol- 
lows: "A pibroch is a species of tune, peculiar, I think, to the 
Highlands and Western Isles of Scotland. It is performed on a 
bagpipe, and differs totally from all other music. Its rhythm is so 
irregular, and its notes, especially in the quick movement, so mixed 
and huddled together, that a stranger finds it impossible to recon- 
cile his ear to it, so as to perceive its modulation. Some of these 
pibrochs, being intended to represent a battle, begin with a grave 
motion, resembling a march; then gradually quicken into the onset ; 
run off with noisy confusion, and turbulent rapidity, to imitate the 
conflict and pursuit ; then swell into a few flourishes of triumphant 
joy ; and perhaps close with the wild and slow wailings of a funeral 
procession." 

408. Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu. *' Besides his ordinary name 
and surname, which were chiefly used in the intercourse with the 
Lowlands, every Highland chief had an epithet expressive of his 
patriarchal dignity as head of the clan, . . . But besides this title, 
which belonged to his office and dignity, the chieftain had usually 
another peculiar to himself, which distinguished him from the chief- 
tains of the same race. This was sometimes derived from com- 
plexion, as (f/izi or roy ; sometimes from size, as deg- or mo7'e ' at 
other times, from some peculiar exploit, or from some peculiarity 
of habit or appearance. The line of the text therefore signifies : 

Black Roderick, the descendant of Alpine. 

"The song itself is intended as an imitation of the Jo?-raj;is, or 
boat songs of the Highlanders, which were usually composed in 
honour of a favourite chief. They are so adapted as to keep time 
with the sweep of the oars, and it is easy to distinguish between 
those intended to be sung to the oars of a galley, where the stroke 
is lengthened and doubled, as it were, and those which were timed 
to the rowers of an ordinary boat," (Scott.) 

416. Menteith and Breadalbane. On Menteith see Canto I, 
line 89. The Breadalbane country was north of Loch Lomond. 



240 Notes 



419. Glen Fruin. Fliis, and the names mentioned just below, 
arc localities in the Luch Lomond region. Bannochar was a castle. 
Scott says, "The Lennox, as the district is called which encircles 
the lowL-r extremity of Loch Lomond, was peculiarly exposed to the 
incursions of the mountaineers, who inhabited the inaccessible 
fastnesses at the upper end of the lake, and the neighbouring dis- 
trict of Luch Katrine," 

426. Leven-Glen. The valley of the Leven, flowing from Loch 
Lomond to the Clyde. 

498. Bloody field. The border war of 1388. 

504. Waned crescent. The crescent was the badge of the Buc- 
cleuch family, and is represented as waning with their defeat in an 
attempt to restore the king. 

506. Blantyre. A priory near Bothwell Castle, 

525. Unhooded. The head of the falcon was ordinarily kept 
covered or hooded, except when it was released to fly after 
game, 

541. Ptarmigan, A white bird. 

571. Reft, etc., i.e. all of my original self that is left would be 
taken away with the pleasure of the chase. 

574. Glenfinlas. A valley (see map). 

583. Strath-Endrick. A valley southeast of Loch Lomond. 

619. In bloody toils. "In 1529 James V made a convention 
at Edinburgh for the purpose of considering the best mode of quell- 
ing the Border robbers. . . . He assembled a flying army of ten 
thousand men, consisting of his principal nobility and their fol- 
lowers, who were directed to bring their hawks and dogs with 
them, that the monarch might refresh himself with sport during 
the intervals of military execution. With this array he swept 
through Ettrick Eorest, where he hanged over the gate of his own 
castle Piers Cockburn of Henderland, who had prepared, according 
to traditicm, a feast for his reception. . . . But the most noted victim 
of justice, during that expedition, was John Armstrong of Gilnockie, 
famous in Scottish song, who, confiding in his own supposed inno- 



Canto III 241 

all of whom 
were hanged at Carlenrig." (Scott.) 

623-626. Meggat, etc. Of these rivers the Ettrick and Teviot 
are iiranches of the Tweed, Yarrow is a branch of the Ettrick, and 
the Meggat of Yarrow. 

678. Links of Forth. The windings of the Eorth east of Stir- 
ling. 

679. Stirling's porch, i.e. at thj entrance of the castle. 
783. Death had been, i.e. wwuld have resulted. 

809. His henchman. Scuit ([notes a writer on Scotland as say- 
ing of the henchman : " This officer is a sort of secretary, and is to 
be ready, upon all occasions, to venture his life in defence of his 
master ; and at drinking-bouts he stands behind his seat, at his 
haunch, from which his title is derived, and watches the conver- 
sation, to see if any one offends his patron." 

831. The Fiery Cross. The call to arms (see next canto). 

847. Holds in ward. See line 613. 

860. Then . . . tide. Scott once wrote to a friend concerning 
this part of the story : "You must know this Malcom Graeme was 
a great plague to me from the beginning. You ladies can hardly 
comprehend how very stupid lovers are to everybody but mistresses. 
I gave him that dip in the lake by way of making him do something; 
but wet or dry I could make nothing of him. His insignificance is 
the greatest defect among many others in the poem; but the canvas 
was not bruad enough to include him, considering 1 had to group 
the king, Roderick, and Douglas." Is this criticism just ? 

CAXTO III 

18. Fiery Cross. "When a chieftain designed to summon his 
clan upon any sudden or important emergency, he slew a goat, and 
making a cross of any light wood, seared its extremities in the fire, 
and extinguished them in the blood of the animal. ... It was de- 
livered to a swift and trusty messenger, who ran full speed with it 

I.ADY OF THE LAKE— l6 



242 Notes 

to the next hamlet, where he presented it to the principal person, 
with a single word, implying the place of rendezvous. He who 
received the symbol was bound to send it forward, with equal dis- 
patch, to the next village ; and thus it passed with incredible 
celerity through all the district which owed allegiance to the 
chief. ... At sight of the Fiery Cross, every man, from sixteen 
years old to sixty, capable of bearing arms, was ol)liged instantly 
to repair, in his best arms and accoutrements, to the place of ren- 
dezvous. He who failed to appear suffered the extremities of 
fire and sword, which were emblematically denounced to the diso- 
bedient by the bloody and burnt marks upon this warlike signal." 
(Scott.) 

74. Benharrow. ■ A mountain at the northern end of Loch 
Lomond. 

81. The hallowed creed, i.e. Christianity. Old Celtic (heathen) 
superstitions were actually mingled, among the Highlanders, with 
the teachings of the church. The Druid (line 76) was the early 
Celtic priest. 

91. Of Brian . . . told. This legend of the birth of Brian 
Scott tells us is not his own invention, but was taken from a collec- 
tion of Scottish antiquities. 

116. Virgin snood. "The snood, or riband, with which a 
Scottish lass braided her hair, . . . was exchanged for the curch., 
toy, or coif, when she passed, by marriage, into the matron state.' 
(Scott.) 

138. Sable-lettered page. The "black letter" books of the 
early period of printing, in the type now called " Old English." 

154. River Demon. " It was a natural attribute of such a char- 
acter as the supposed hermit, that he should credit the numerous 
superstitions with which the minds of ordinary Highlanders are 
almost always imbued. A few of these are slightly alluded to in 
this stanza. The River Demon, or River-horse, for it is that form 
which he commonly assumes, is the Kelpy of the Lowlands, an evil 
and malicious spirit, delighting to forebode and to witness calamity. 



Canto III 



243 



. . . The 'noontide hag' (line 156), called in Gaelic Glas-lich, 
a tall, emaciated, gigantic female figure, is supposed in particular 
to haunt the district of Knoidart. . . . The Ben-Shie (line 168) 
implies the female fairy whose lamentations were often supposed 
to precede the death of a chieftain of particular famihes. When 
she is visible, it is in the form of an old woman, with a blue mantle 
and streaming hair." (Scott.) 

191. Inch-Cailliach. The Isle of Nuns or Old Women, at the 
lower end of Loch Lomond, where there was an ancient church- 
yard. 

199. Notice the form of stanza introduced here, varied by shorter 
lines than the usual ones of eight syllables. In the earlier poem 
of Marmion Scott made much larger use of this. 

253. Coir-Uriskin. See lines 620-634 below. 

255. Beala-nam-bo. " The pass of the cattle," a glade on the 
opposite side of Benvenue from the Goblin Cave. 

286. Lanrick Mead. A meadow near Loch Vennachar (see 
map) . 

300. Dun deer's hide, i.e. the leather "brogue" or buskin of 
the Highlander. 

369. Coronach. "The Coronach of the Highlanders . . . 
was a wild expression of lamentation, poured forth by the 
mourners over the body of a departed friend. When the words 
of it were articulate, they expressed the praises of the deceased." 
(Scott.) 

452. Benledi saw, etc. " Inspection of the provincial map of 
Perthshire, or any large map of Scotland, will trace the progress 
of the signal through the small district of lakes and mountains, 
which, in exercise of my poetical privilege, I have subjected to the 
authority of my imaginary chieftain, and which, at the period of 
my romance, was really occupied by a clan who claimed a descent 
from Alpine. . . . The first stage of the Fiery Cross is to Dun- 
craggan, a place near the Brigg of Turk, where a short stream 
divides Loch Achray from Loch Vennachar. From thence it 



^44 



Notes 



passes toward Callander, and then, turning to the left up the pass 
of T^eny, is consigned to Norman at the Chapel of Saint Bride, wnich 
stood on a small and romantic kiu)ll in the middle of the valley 
called Strath-Ire. Tombea and Arnandave, or Ardmantlave, are 
names of places in the vicinity. Tiic alarm is then supposed to 
pass along the Lake of Lubnaig, antl through the various glens in 
the district of lialquidder, including the neighbouring tracts of 
Clenhnlas and Strath-Gartney." (Sct)tt.) 

485. Coif-clad dame. See note on line 116. 

530. Sickening pang. An allusion to Proverbs xiii. 12. 

570. Midnight blaze. "The heath of the Scottish moorlands is 
often set hre to, that tlie sheep may have the advantage of the 
voung herbage produced, in room of the tough old heather plants. 
This custom (execrated by sportsmen) produces occasionally the 
most beautiful nocturnal appearances." (Scott.) 

580. Balvaig. The stream connecting Loch Lubnaig and Loch 
Voil. 

583. Each man might claim. " Who " is omitted. See note 
on Canto I, line 528. 

599. By his chieftain's hand. "The deep and implicit re- 
spect paid by the Highland clansmen to their chief, rendered this 
both a common and a solemn oath.'" (Scott.) 

607. Rednoch. A castle north of Lake Menteith. 

608. Cardross. A castle on the Clyde. 

609. Duchray. A castle south of Loch Ard. 

622. Coir-nan-Uriskin. "This is a very steep and romantic 
hollow in the mountain of Benvenue, overhanging the southeastern 
extremity of Loch Katrine. It is surrounded with stupendous 
rocks, and overshadowed with birch-trees, mingled with oaks. . . . 
The name literally implies the Corri, or Den, of the Wild or Shaggy 
Men. Tradition has ascribed to the Urisk, who gives name to the 
cavern, a Hgure between a goat and a man." (Scott.) 

713. Hymn. Notice how the whole song is based on two 
rhvmes. 



Canto IV 245 



c;axto IV 

ig. Braes of Doune. The region on the north side of the Teith. 
63. The Taghairm. "The Highlanders, like all rude people," 
says Scott, *' had varivius superstitious modes of inquiring into 
futurity." In the case of the Taghairm "a person was wrapped 
up in the skin of a newly slain bullock, and deposited beside a 
waterfall, or at the l>ottom of a precipice, or in some other strange, 
wild, and unusual situation. ... In this situation he revolved in 
his mind the question proposed ; and whatever was impressed 
upon him by his exalted imagination, passed for the inspiration of 
the disembodied spirits who haunt these desolate recesses." 

74, Baal 'rnaha. The "pass of the plain," east of Loch Lomond. 
77. Dennan's Row. A settlement near the foot of Ben Lomond. 

152. The Mcray, i.e. the Earl of Moray. The reference is to 
the cognizance or device on arms and banners. 

160. Earn. The district about Loch Earn, north of Ben Voir- 
lich. 

198. Red streamers of the North. The Aurora Borealis. 

231. Cambus-Kenneth's fane. An abbey near Stirling. 

261. The Ballad is a charming imitation of the old ballad form, 
both in the form of the stanza, the style, and the plot. The story 
is founded, Scott tells us, on a Danish ballad of the sixteenth 
century. 

291. Richard. Scott imitates in this word the old " wrenched 
accent " often found at the end of a ballad line. 

306. Fatal green. The fairies were believed to wear green, 
and to take offence if mortals assumed their colour. 

340. 'Tis merry. Here the dwarf speaks. 

371. Dunfermline. A town northwest of Edinburgh. 

504. Female form. In a letter to a friend Scott once related 
the source of this character : " I wish I could give you an idea of 
the original, whom I really saw in the Pass of Glencoe many years 
ago. It is one of the wildest and most tremendous passes in the 



246 Notes 



Highlands, winding through huge masses of rock without a pile 
of verdure, and between mountains that seem rent asunder by an 
earthquake. This poor woman had placed herself in the wildest 
attitude imaginable, upon the very top of one of these huge frag- 
ments; she had scarce any covering but a tattered plaid, which 
left her arms, legs, and neck bare to the weather. Her long, 
shaggy, black hair was streaming backwards in the wind, and ex- 
posed a face rather wild and wasted than ugly, and bearing a very 
peculiar expression of frenzy. She had a handful of eagle's 
feathers in her hand." 

523. Better time, i.e. better days. 

531. Allan. This river, like the Devan (see next line), flows 
through Perthshire into the Forth. 

575. Lincoln green. See note on Canto I, line 464. 

594. Of ten, i.e. having ten branches on his antlers. 

624. Kindred ambush. The same in meaning as "ambushed 
kin " in line 627. 

745. Space and law. A reference to the rules of the hunt, 
under which the prey was given a start in the race. 

751. Come, i.e. let Roderick come (subjunctive). 

772. Mighty augury. Referring to lines 132, 133. 

787. Coilantogle's ford. On the river Teith, where it flows 
from Loch Vennachar (see map)o 

CANTO V 

108. The Regent's court. See Canto II, line 221. The Regent 
was the. Duke of Albany (see line 124 below) who was called to 
the regency after the death of James IV. 

263. Doubt not aught, etc., i.e. suspect nothing from this dis- 
play of my power. 

300. Ceaseless mines, etc. "The torrent which discharges 
itself from Loch Vennachar . . . sweeps through a flat and exten- 
sive moor, called Bochastle. Upon a small eminence called the 



Canto V 247 

Dun of Bochastle, and indeed on the plain itself, are some intrench - 
ments which have been thought Roman." (Scott.) 

356. Carpet knight, i.e. a knight belonging by his character 
to the carpeted women's apartments. 

383. Abroad, i.e. in France. See note on Canto I, line 163. 

462. A fairer freight. See Canto IV, Hne 411. 

485. Carhonie's hill. About a mile from Loch Vennachar. 

490. Torry and Lendrick. These, and the following towns, 
are on the shore of the Teith, on the way to Stirling from Loch 
Vennachar. 

534. Cambus-Kenneth. See Canto IV, line 231. 

551. Sad and fatal mound. "An eminence on the northeast 
of the Castle, where state criminals were executed." (Scott.) 

558. Franciscan steeple, i.e. of Greyfriars Church. The Fran- 
ciscan monks were those " of orders grey." 

562. Morrice-dancers. The niorrice, or tnorris, was a familiar 
dance, used at festivals, and often referred to in Shakespeare's 
time. See lines 611, 612 below. 

564. Hold their sports. " Every burgh of Scotland of the least 
note, but more especially the considerable towns, had their solemn 
play, or festival, when feats of archery were exhibited, and prizes 
distributed to those who excelled in wrestling, hurling the bar, and 
the other gymnastic exercises of the period. Stirling, a usual place 
of royal residence, was not likely to be deficient in pomp upon 
such occasions, especially since James V was very partial to them. 
His ready participation in these popular amusements was one cause 
of his acquiring the title of the King of the Commons. . . . The 
usual prize to the best shooter was a silver arrow." (Scott.) 

603. Hostage for their clan, i.e. held as guarantee against 
misbehaviour by their clan. 

614. Robin Hood. "The exhibition of this renowned outlaw 
and his band was a favourite frolic at such festivals." (Scott.) 

642. On the source of this part of the story, see the Introduction, 
page 28. 



248 Notes 



660. The Ladies' Rock. A point below Stirling Castle, formerly 
used for viewing games. 

720. Stifled wrath. This passage is interestingly suggestive of 
Scott's own fondness for dogs, which was shown in all his writings 
so clearly that it was used as one of the evidences for the author- 
ship of the Waverley Novels. 

887. Earl William. The Douglas who was stabbed by James II 
in Stirling. 

CANTO VI 

47. Adventurers they. "The Scottish armies consisted chiefly 
t)rthe nobility and barons, with their vassals, who held lands under 
them for military service l)y themselves and their tenants. . . . 
lames V seems first to have introduced . . . the service of a small 
number of mercenaries, who formed a body-guard, called the Foot- 
Band." (Scott.) 

53. Despised the soil. The soil of Inlanders being noted for 
fertility. 

78. Trent. A river of England. 

95. Upsees out. A bit of Dutch ch-inking slang, more com- 
monly found in the form '* upsee " or " upsey." 

99. ApOllyon. Like Beelzebub, the name of a chief among 
evil spirits. 

103. Dues of his cure. A jocose allusion to the freedom from 
restraint which the clergy, a privileged ortler, could exercise when 
they chose. 

131- Juggler band. " The yVv/^/t'^z-j-, or jugglers, . . . used to 
call in the aid of various assistants, to render these performances as 
captivating as possible. The glee-maiden was a necessary attend- 
ant. Her duty was tumbling and dancing." (Scott.) 
152. Tartan screen. The "plaid" of line 116. 
170. Needwood. An English forest belonging to royalty. 
183. TuUibardine. A seat of the Murray family, near 
Stirling. 



Canto V 249 



199. Errant damosel. An allusion to the distressed ladies who 
tigured in many old romances. 

222. Permit I. 7//(//' is omitted; //^^^r^i// is subjunctive. 

347. Dermid's race. Dermid was an ancient Celtic king. 

363. Power of song. The minstrels were supposed to he able 
to extemporize on occasion. 

369. Battle of Bear an Duine. "A skirmish actually took 
]->lace at a pass thus called in the Trosachs, and closed with the 
remarkable incident mentioned in the text. It was greatly poste- 
rior in date to the reign of James V." (Scott.) Scott goes on 
to tell how the women and children of the region took refuge, 
during the time of the raids of Cromwell's soldiers, on the island 
descril:)ed in the first canto of the poem, and how a soldier who 
attempted to swim to it from the mainland was killed by one of 
the wo men. 

452. Tinchel. This was "a circle of sportsmen, who, by sur- 
ri)unding a great space, and gradually narrowing, brought immense 
(luantities of deer together, which usually made desperate efforts to 
break through the Tinchel^ (Scott.) 

487. Bracklinn. See Canto II, line 270. 

530. In connection with this description of the battle, Lockhart 
tells an interesting incident which he says Scott took special pride 
in relating. When a presentation copy of The Lady of the Lake 
reached Sir Adam Ferguson, an army officer who was an old friend 
of the poet, " he was posted with his company on a point of ground 
exposed to tlie enemy's artillery; somewhere, no doubt, on the 
lines of Torres Vedras. The men were ordered to lie prostrate 
on the ground; while they kept that attitude, the captain, kneel- 
ing at their head, read aloud the description of the battle in 
Canto VI, and the listening soldiers only interrupted him by a 
joyous huzza, whenever the French shot struck the bank close 
above them.'' 

665. Perch and hood, i.e. idleness. On the hood, see note on 
Canto II, line 525. 



250 Notes 



734. Wore cap and plume. For the «ource of this point in the 
story, see the anecdote of King James quoted in the Introduction, 
page 31. 

838. Byron told Scott that the Prince Regent (afterward 
George IV) once said to him that he regarded Scott as " par- 
ticularly the poet of princes, as they never appeared more fascinat- 
ing than in Marniion and The Lady of the Lake.'''' 

846. Wizard elm. See the opening of Canto I. 

851. Farewell. Scott felt at the time that this would be his 
last important poem; and he describes the pleasure he has found 
in this form of writing. It was not his ambition to be a great poet; 
hence he does not care ("little reck I ") for the severe judgement 
("censure sharp") of critics. The first and third of these con- 
cluding Spenserian stanzas show Scott's serious lyrical art at a 
point of dignity and beauty which he rarely attained. 



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